


Sanguine Fangs and Saccharine Pains

by boys_in (kaleidosphere)



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Vampire, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Freeform, Manipulation, Multi, One-Sided Relationship (Hatred), Revenge, also except for the main ship all the other characters are side characters, but they WILL appear and actually DO stuff so don't worry about that, not really but it's experimental af
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-08 09:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13455057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidosphere/pseuds/boys_in
Summary: Kokichi Ouma won't forgive them easily. He's on a mission, and he won't stop. He can't rest until he's had his revenge, and that can only be had when those golden eyes are staring up at him lifelessly, bleeding out from their sockets and melting in his hands.(alternative title: kokichi is a vampire hunter and shuichi is a vampire and i want death)





	1. he'll never forget what he saw there

**Author's Note:**

> Just know that I will be using the English localization's way of addressing characters, after a long debate with myself. But my interpretation and view of all the NDRV3 characters in this fic is a nice mix of both the original JPN and the ENG localization. So keep that in mind, even if this is an AU so therefore most characterization is under scrutiny, anyway...
> 
> Also, I looked at Shuichi's sprites a hundred times and I've decided that his eyes are a golden shade. Sorry if I'm wrong, but I can't imagine what other color they must be. Feel free to correct me on these minor things as you see fit!
> 
> Also also, reviews help me a lot, so while you certainly don't have to, I'd appreciate if you left something for me! Thanks in advance!

When did he first know he was going to die?

 

When did he discover that it had all been a lie?

 

Kokichi Ouma asked himself these things on a daily basis, but he knew the answer better than anyone else. As he  _ should  _ know the answer before anyone else, because he never told anyone about that particular experience he had, all those years ago. And if anyone were to ask him about it now, he would clam up and take his story to the grave. Well, maybe not  _ anyone,  _ but most people would get the warranted silence or a carefully crafted diversion from Kokichi if they actually pressed him on the matter. It was all the same, in his mind. 

 

And in his mind, he could see the scenes play out clearly and vividly, like one of those old-fashioned movie reels that rolled up the film until the tiny slides were all bunched up together. When the film was unrolled, bits and pieces of that story would be visible again, and it would be like nothing bad ever happened in the first place. 

 

Kokichi’s story, however, did  _ not  _ start at the first panel like most stories did. But then again, who said that the stories had to start at the beginning? No, in actuality, most people’s lives only got interesting later on, and the crux of their existences were placed precariously in the middle of their timeline. Ouma was still young, however, so he could consider the beginning of his life—and the end of it, too—being placed somewhere in his childhood. And he was a slightly bigger boy since that time, so when his violet eyes fluttered closed in thoughtful repose, he could remember everything from that point onward. 

 

One of his earliest memories, and subsequently the most important, started when he was no older than six years old. It was marked with trepid footsteps, fearful stares, and the glint of metallic gold and moon-white pearls in the dark. 

 

.

.

 

Kokichi was six years old. He barely knew anything about himself, let alone the world around him. While he was startlingly clever for a child his age, there were still some basic things that he failed to understand. But could he help it? After all, his parents could only do so much—if they chose to do anything at all—and from early on, Kokichi realized he had to take care of himself because no one else in his life was willing to take care of him. 

 

His mother and father came home late from work one night, ignoring their son as they passed by him on the staircase to the second floor of their home. Judging from their sluggish movements and dazed eyes, it had been a hectic day on their end, and they were in no state to talk to each other, let alone their clever son. So the young boy watched as the two adults disappeared behind wooden doors, the sound of their slippers shuffling against the hardwood floors of their home. When he heard a soft  _ thunk  _ noise that could only be their tired bodies crashing against the bed, Kokichi headed back down the stairs to the first floor. 

 

There was no reason for this late-night expedition, but he felt antsy sitting in his own room and trying to force himself to sleep. With his first-grade homework having long since been completed in his backpack, there was nothing of immediate importance for the then-young Kokichi to do. None of his toys were stimulating enough, and the notebooks which he obsessively garnered and scribbled in were also lacking interest. Seeing less and less options for his nightly entertainment, he settled on having a midnight snack. 

 

The fridge opened easily before the boy, and he scoured the shelves for something he liked. The grape soda which he loved so much was finished already, and orange flavored ramune stood as the only meek comparison and substitution possible. Kokichi’s nose scrunched up at the sight of it, but he settled for a half-empty bottle of that orange ramune, together with one of those sweet buns that his father always bought whenever he was out. He closed the fridge, and set upon his nightly snack. 

 

Somewhere in between finishing the sweet bun and kicking his legs back and forth, Kokichi heard a loud noise upstairs. It sounded like glass shattering, maybe, but he couldn’t be sure of it. Chills went up his spine, and a bright fear took hold of his mind as he stumbled out from the chair he was sitting in. The noise resurfaced again, and this time the child was running out of the kitchen, clamoring up the stairs like his life depended on it. 

 

_ Or like his parents’ lives depended on it.  _ He knew that while they were adults and generally bigger and stronger than him, in their tired states they were just as weak and unsuspicious of anything strange happening as Kokichi was. If there was someone or something in his house, they would be unaware of it and unable to fight back if conflict broke out. And if they were unable to stop the threat, then it would lead to Kokichi’s downfall, too. 

 

Of course, Kokichi was six, so his thoughts on the matter went along the lines of  _ some monster musta broke in! I gotta check on Mommy and Daddy!  _ But the same sentiment still applied. It wasn’t the first time that the choking feeling of anxiety came to eat his heart, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The way his chest felt like breaking apart to let loose the thunderous heart within would be something that Ouma could never forget. 

 

Even if he wanted to. 

 

.

.

 

The memory continued on as it always did. Kokichi knew this part, and every part before and afterward. He knew the feeling of the stairs disappearing beneath his feet, and the unsteady grasp his hands had on the railings as he climbed upward. He knew the sound of thunder in his ears, and the desperate breaths escaping his lips in frightened pants. He also knew what he must have looked like at the time—a smaller, weaker version of himself. Not wearing his usual clothes or smile, but just a tiny boy in a simple t-shirt and shorts, wearing a look of complete fear. 

 

He knew what happened next. 

 

Kokichi saw his parents’ bedroom door in front of him. Here is where he hesitated, because every time he walked in here, he was scolded and immediately ushered out by one of his parents. Whether it was because he had a bad dream, heard a loud noise, or some mix of the two, he would run in and try to wake his parents. And eventually, Ouma trained himself to not bother them in the middle of the night anymore, even when he had the worst nightmare possible. 

 

But tonight was different. That noise was ear-shattering loud, and if he could hear it all the way from downstairs then it must have been something big. Maybe that monster ripped through the windows and stole his mother away. Or maybe his dad broke their antique vase or something else that could have splintered apart into a million pieces. Either way, Kokichi decided that he would investigate, and that being punished for waking them up was far less scarier than waiting outside this door, unknowing of what may lurk behind it. 

 

So he opened the door, slowly and carefully, making sure that it didn’t squeak out against him in protest. The room was really dark, and a light breeze met Kokichi’s face when he entered. In the dimness of his surroundings, he could see that the window was open, because the streetlights in the distance were visible from his viewpoint. And in that dull light, Kokichi could make out the shapes of his mother and father lying on the bed. 

 

_ But something was wrong,  _ he realized. Something was terribly, obstinately wrong. His father wasn’t snoring his usual storm, and his mother had left the window open—two things that the boy knew for a fact that his parents would never do. If anything, Mr. Ouma was known for lamenting over his loud snoring, and how he invested in earplugs for his wife and in some medicine that was supposed to cure the nightly habit. And Mrs. Ouma, respectively, got cold so easily that she insisted all windows be shut at all times. Even if it meant making the house a stuffy, sweaty mess, she wanted none of the wind from the outside world. 

 

So how could the two of them break their usual habits, especially in a time like this? Kokichi was scared, alright. Scared that his parents were replaced by machines, or that they fell into such a deep sleep that they wouldn’t ever wake up again. Realizing he had to make this room brighter in order to get any answers, he felt around for the light switch, and turned it on without hesitation. 

 

He’ll never forget what he saw there. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the new brightness of the room, but when they did the image that lay before him became permanently ingrained in his mind. His violet eyes widened in fear, disgust, and confusion mixed up in one incomprehensible mess. He felt his shirt was too bare and that his body was naked, revealed to the cold night’s wind and the scene before him. His arms trembled and his hands reached up to muffle a scream from his mouth. 

 

They were  _ dead.  _ They had to be, because they were staring right at Kokichi without any semblance of emotion. His father was in bed, but lying askew and out from the sheets. He crumpled near the footboard, dark eyes staring at the oblivion ahead of him, unseeing of the boy that he was eye level with. A thin stream of blood seeped from his mouth, and the side of his head appeared lopsided, like it had caved in beneath the pressure of all his thoughts within. 

 

(That wouldn’t be a farfetched reality, either. His father always complained that he worried too much, and that his head constantly hurt from all the thinking he did.) 

 

Then there was his mother. She wasn’t lying down on the bed with him as much as she was propped against the headboard—sitting up but so motionless that there couldn’t have been life in those dull eyes of hers. She had the same deal as her husband, with streams of blood coming out from her mouth, and a lopsided shape to her head that wasn’t there before. The only exception to this was that there was a  _ gaping hole  _ in her chest, a darkness where blood and bone should have been.

 

(And while his mother could be so, so cruel at times, this wasn’t what Kokichi imagined when people called her  _ “heartless”.  _ No, this was more than just her heart.) 

 

A shadow moved across the room, and jumped out of the window when it noticed Kokichi. For a split second beforehand, the boy could see it—moon-white pearl edge, something so bright and milky that it seemed perfect—coming out from the shadow’s body. What were they exactly, he wouldn't think to know. But it reminded him a lot of those wolves and bears he saw at the zoo once. 

 

It was off-putting how familiar their fanged expressions behind cages reminded him of that shadow. And he would have thought about it more in detail, but he got sidetracked by another revelation he caught in the moment. The window was the source of the shattering sound from earlier, he decided, because glass fragments splayed across the bedroom floor, jutting the edges of the room like a dangerous trap. And despite the danger, he stepped forward cautiously.

 

The shadow left, but Kokichi was still not alone. He realized this when he came closer, and saw another pair of eyes staring at him. They weren’t lifeless eyes like the ones his parents had, or dark shadows like the guy that just jumped out of the window had. No, these were bright, vivacious eyes looking right in Kokichi’s direction. They were also a sweet, golden color, shining like metal now that the light had properly cast against them. And there were wondrously long lashes accompanying these eyes, too, fluttering in tandem with the eyes’ movements. 

 

All Kokichi could clearly remember were those eyes. He didn’t have time to see the rest of the face, or the body, for that matter. But he had a feeling that there was another child in the room with him, because the stranger had stared into his eyes on an equal level. Yet as soon as they made contact—as soon as bright gold met dark purple—they shifted away, closing shut and hiding themselves from the onlooker. Then the stranger turned into a blur, heading towards the window like the first shadow did. 

 

“W-Wait!” Kokichi finally croaked out a response, and he nearly tripped over himself as he gave chase. “Wait!” 

 

They didn’t listen to him. Those golden eyes appeared before him once more, and Ouma realized it was because the stranger was staring him down from the window frame. They perched on the broken windowsill like a bird, waiting for Ouma’s reaction. 

 

Maybe they saw something in Kokichi’s eyes. Something like hope, despair, and hatred all in one, which wouldn’t have been surprising given the situation. Maybe they saw the remnants of love and life leaving the boy’s eyes as it did his parents’. Maybe they saw a cruel anger, or a disparate wish that wanted nothing than redemption for his parents’ lost lives. Either way, the stranger saw  _ something,  _ and their expression changed vapidly.

 

They looked  _ kind.  _ They looked  _ sympathetic.  _ Those golden eyes softened in appearance, and the long lashes fluttered slowly, as if to emphasize the emotion that laid there. But no matter what those eyes did, they only infuriated Kokichi because they lacked the one true emotion that he needed to see there. 

 

And that emotion was  _ remorse.  _ Those eyes weren’t apologetic in the least, and instead they seemed unfazed by the two, dead adults that lay only feet away from where they were. Kokichi had the nerve to scream, shout, or grab the perpetrator by the head. But he could do none of those things, as the golden-eyed stranger disappeared out the window, escaping without saying so much as a word. 

 

Kokichi ran towards the broken window, ignoring the biting pain of his feet as he trampled over glass shards. Even if he tracked blood behind him in clumsy steps, he didn’t care. The fact that those two chose to fall out of a window than face condemnation was a telling sign. So Kokichi couldn’t wait to see what had become of them—if they had turned into cracked puddles of flesh and blood on the concrete outside of his house, crumpling like paper dolls instead of the people that they were. 

 

His heart dropped when he saw that there were no bodies on the pavement outside. In fact, there was nothing outside except wayward leaves from nearby trees, and Kokichi’s bicycle with training wheels parked against the house. No blood, bone, or anything to signify two people jumping out of a second story window. No trace of any monsters having rampaged his home, despite the cadavers left behind as obvious evidence. 

 

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing. And Kokichi felt like the hole in his mother’s chest, or the window with broken glass. He felt like there was nothing left of him, and it was strange because he was sure—no,  _ positive of it— _ that he was still  _ something.  _ Because his eyes started watering and his feet screamed at him to  _ stop standing on the glass, already!  _ But none of these signs registered hard enough in the boy’s mind. 

 

No, the only thing he could even fathom was the moon-white pearls in the shadow’s form, and the glinting gold in the stranger’s eyes. 

 

.

.

 

But that was a long time ago. Kokichi had been six years old when that happened, and a great deal of time passed since then. He was much older now, albeit not as taller as he imagined he would turn out to be. But his slight frame and childish appearance only benefited him in most situations, and since he was a self-proclaimed pacifist, he avoided fighting whenever he could. So it’d be fine if he had to use his lithe body to outrun or squeeze by enemies, anyway. 

 

It only mattered in the end, when he could find that gold-eyed  _ demon  _ that took his parents away. While he had greater plans and ideas than short-sighted revenge, the instinct within him didn’t allow him to ignore the great loss he felt when he had lost them both. And those metallic eyes he stared so deeply into had haunted him every day since the first time he witnessed them. 

 

Kokichi normally had a sunny disposition. He was hard to read, completely unpredictable, and super annoying, to boot. He hid everything that hurt him behind a smile, and when he couldn’t do that he would pretend to be sad and brush it off as another facade of his. Everyone that knew him knew these bare basics—they knew he was a  _ liar  _ and that he couldn’t be trusted. Worse was that he was wildly smart and creative, off-the-rails in the best (and worst) way possible, so he could bend these lies and truths to his whim. 

 

The only time when he appeared different was when he was thinking about  _ that _ night. The sunlight in his face would dim and become darkness, and angry shadows would take a hold of his heart, disregarding all the walls put up in self-defense there. When that happened, he  _ knew  _ he was breaking character—he  _ knew _ he was being weak and vulnerable and everything he hates about himself. But he couldn’t quite help it. This was one of his many neuroses, and his inability to mask it like he did to all other things was something that couldn’t be avoided. 

 

He blamed it all on that  _ demon.  _ Yes, Kokichi Ouma generally didn’t believe in murder, violence, or anything that couldn’t overtly be solved by quick-thinking and careful planning all at once. There were exceptions to this, of course, and times where cruelty needed to be the forefront of negotiations. But this was the primary case of that ideology, and when it came to that  _ monster  _ that ravaged his home all those years ago, anything goes. 

 

And Ouma was clever from the beginning. He was even more clever to rally forces of similar people, of those who have suffered loss and bore the regret of being unable to protect those they love. As it turns out, Kokichi wasn’t alone in his endeavors, and his experience was just one of many. In fact, while most people were unaware of it, a select few in the world knew of the existence of those that  _ looked  _ human, but most certainly weren’t. 

 

The term  _ vampire  _ was made just for them. And Kokichi never realized he would become the head of the first formal vampire hunting society. Of course, he called it “hunting”, but he usually spared any creature that fell into that category. His goal, after all, wasn’t to cleanse this world of evil, but rather to find a very particular evil and bring them to their  _ knees.  _

 

While his subordinates often killed those beasts anyway, they always had to bring the captives to Ouma first, so he could see if they were the golden-eyed beast that broke into his home all those years ago. And most of the time, they weren’t the one he was looking for. No, their eyes ranged in colors, everything from bloodiest red to clearest sky blue. But never gold, never that tantalizing, metallic shade that still appeared in Kokichi’s mind if he thought hard enough (and even when he didn’t think at all, they still appeared).

 

Never that glinting gold, set against the darkness of the night like a sun against a setting sky. It irked Kokichi each time his organization failed him, and that frustration blinded him from seeing the act of his underlings kill the vampiric captives, showing they weren’t nearly as “pacifistic” as their leader. But these were oversights that could be ignored, because to Kokichi, nothing was more important than that  _ gold.  _

 

“Go for Gold!” He would tell his members at meetings. “Remember, bring  _ everyone  _ to me  _ first.  _ I mean, you could always disobey me, but I doubt you’d get as much fun out of that as you  _ think  _ you would. So, don’t just stand there with stupid looks on your face! Get to it!” 

 

And then they would disperse like mice in the sewers, scampering over each other in hushed whispers and gallivanting laughs. Ouma didn’t mind, though. These were his people, and they didn’t actually have the guts to go against him. 

 

( _ They wouldn’t get out of it unscathed if they did.) _

 

Although, it was a bit disappointing at how obedient they were, to the point where they didn’t bother talking to Kokichi after receiving orders. They just left the meeting and convened elsewhere, or went straight ahead to work. Perhaps they had a fire that Kokichi lacked, but he seriously doubted it given the state of their work ethic. To them, this organization was a means to an end, and that end would be to bring all vampires to extinction. 

 

For Kokichi, he had the same ideal but for a different end. All the vampires in the world could burn if they wanted, but he needed  _ one  _ of them to burn at  _ his  _ hands. So as long as everyone had their goals in mind, then the relationship between him and the members of his “super secret evil organization” could stand anything. And he could stand being nothing but a lie and a broken piece of what he  _ could have been,  _ had that accident never happened at all.

 

But really, it was all very confusing to think of it this way. And all the confusion stemmed from those  _ eyes  _ that still hurt him, haunted him, and hollered at him to this day. He just hoped that he could find that vampire soon, because by now he was really sick and tired of the color  _ yellow.  _

  
  
  



	2. it was someone he had never seen before

Why did he bother with all of these useless people?

 

And why did these useless people, in turn, bother with him?

 

Kokichi wondered this the first time he met everyone. And by everyone, he mostly meant those that were worth remembering by name, if nothing else. It was a meeting like no other. Because outside of Kokichi’s vampire hunting organization, he was a bit of an enigma that was always out looking for naivety in possible fresh-faced recruits.

 

Kaito Momota, he realized, was one such person. He first met the other at a party, one that he crashed but he wanted to be a part of because he was just _bored_ . And Kaito was so obscenely loud and boisterous, Kokichi realized that his idiocy would be _perfect_ for his group, and that even if Kaito didn’t know that vampires existed, he could use his image for his organization’s dirty work, and his large social circle to his utter advantage.

 

Shortly after conversing with Momota, however, Ouma realized that he was _really dumb,_ beyond first impressions and vastly exceeding his expectations. The fact that Kaito was still alive after being reckless his whole life was an achievement in itself. Kokichi made sure to emphasize this when speaking to him, too.

 

“So, like, you’re really stupid and that’s all there is to it?”

 

“Hey, man! I said that hurts, don’t call me stupid!” He shouted, garnering the attention of other partygoers. “Who even invited you, eh? I don’t remember seeing a snot-nose like you on the list!”

 

“And why would I be here if I wasn't invited? Do you not trust Akamatsu to be competent enough to take care of a simple _guest list?_ ” The lilt and rise in tone in Kokichi’s voice was harsh enough to make Kaito recoil thoughtfully, but he didn’t stop there. “For some big-shot astronaut-in-training, you talk a weak game. Are you _sure_ you didn’t just bribe them to let you in the program?”

 

“Of course I trust Kaede!” He barked. “Well, why the fuck she’d ever invite you is beyond my imagination. But as long as I’m Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars, then I don’t care what anyone else says! When I go to space soon, you’ll see what I mean!”

 

“Uh-huh, sure. Space, huh? Say, what about you join my secret evil organization, instead? Then not only could you go to space, but you could knock out some of the heavy lifting for me!” Stars were in Kokichi’s eyes as he seemed genuinely pleased by the idea. “You, me, and my other ten thousand followers! Sounds awesome, right?”

 

“What are you babblin’ on about?” Kaito huffed. “Listen, Ouma, I’m not interested in whatever you’re sellin’. Everyone knows that you gotta make your own out here. There isn’t any point in living by someone else’s efforts.”

 

“Is that so…?” Kokichi tilted his head, and put a finger to his lips to seem innocuous enough. But part of him was really, genuinely pondering the idea. “Okay, Kaito! Forget I said that, then! You’re really interesting after all!”

 

“Ha, told ya! After all, I’m Kaito Momota, Luminary of the—”

 

“—I lied!” Kokichi cried out, smiling whilst he did so. “You’re _so boring,_ I might fall asleep if you say another word!”

 

“W-What?” Kaito stumbled. “Then why bother talking to me? What’s up with you?”

 

Kokichi ignored him as he moved on to talk to others at the party, too. Seeing so many affluent people at once was disconcerting, not to mention highly suspicious. But he doubted that anything truly malicious was going on here, if Kaito’s obliviousness was any indicator of such. And people threw names and information out so easily, he could make up lies with second-hand gossip from side conversations all day long. Ouma didn’t do this all day, of course, because he had people to observe and meet.

 

He even met Kaede Akamatsu herself, the hostess of this party and one of the best piano-playing prodigies in the country. The fact that she seemed so friendly and amicable to even _him,_ a complete stranger, said something about her. It said that she was too kind, naive, and friendly all at once. Someone like her could get grossly taken advantage of, so in Kokichi’s mind it would be better if he could recruit her for his own nefarious purposes before someone else did so for theirs.

 

She wasn’t too receptive of the idea, either, probably thinking that the proposal to join his secret organization was a joke. “I mean, c’mon, Ouma! A super, secret, evil organization that you’re the head of? There’s no way that could happen, right? So…”

 

“You sure about that?” He asked, looking up at her with a starry-eyed expression. “There’s definitely been way, way, _waaay_ stranger things happening in the world than that. Do you mean to say that I’m lying?”

 

“T-That’s not it!” She quickly covered up. “I’m not accusing you of lying, I’m just a little skeptical is all!”

 

“Well, you’re right!” He chimed in. “Because I _am_ lying. Come on, Akamatsu! Don’t tell me you’re _that_ naive. You can’t just believe anything anyone says.”

 

She blinked, visibly confused by everything he just said. Her pretty face contorted into something indignant, maybe just worried, but he left before she could say anything more on the matter. He laughed at her as he left, though, and pranced around the party house like he owned it. And on that subject, Kaede vaguely wondered who _invited_ him anyway, as the name Kokichi Ouma hardly rang a bell to her.

 

But even then, that thought disappeared, and she was left to herself as his image—purple, white, black, with some variation in between—disappeared entirely into the background.

 

 _Strange kid,_ she thought. _Really strange._

 

.

.

 

Kokichi figured that he was wasting his time (but then again time is never wasted as long as he got _some_ amusement out of it all) and that he’d better leave before anything too tedious happened. But as he was about to fade out into the crowd, he felt a smooth hand grab his right shoulder and propel him backward. He faltered momentarily, but quickly covered his missteps as he turned around and faced the perpetrator in the eye.

 

It was someone he had never seen before. She seemed pretty, with long (like, _really long_ ) hair tied in twintails behind her. Her skin was clear and smooth, revealed in some places by a cute skirt and covered up in other places by a long-sleeved shirt. Not to mention her stature—she was taller than Kokichi (but then again, so were most other people) yet not necessarily imposing. It could be a practiced body movement, but she appeared so distant and far away in that moment, despite being no more than a foot’s length apart from him.

 

Most noticeable were her _eyes,_ however. They were crimson red, dark and long-lashed. But they wore an unreadable expression that was only betrayed by the slight scowl her lips had taken to. She looked as if she were trying to stomach the very sight of Kokichi, and he supposed he couldn’t blame her.

 

He had quite a few enemies, after all. She may very well be one of them, although the public space of a party was too crowded to effectively take him out. Would she draw a gun from behind or back, or whisk out a dagger that was secretly strapped to her inner thigh? Would she wildly brandish a weapon for all onlookers to see, or carefully press it against his body so only he was subject to the threat? He wondered about all these possibilities, but more so the solutions to any problems he might face. How could he get out of this unscathed? If he had caught his target and killed them already, then he would have no objections to dying where he stood. But given the current situation, that was far from the truth and in reality, he needed to stay alive.

 

All of these thoughts circulated within his head in seconds, and he quickly reacted as a result. “You know,” he said to her, “a simple ‘hi’ would have worked all the same!”

 

She dismissed his jovial words, and continued to stare death into his eyes. He felt unnerved, truly, but masked the discomfort from view. After all, it would be better if he pretended like he wasn’t secretly nervous like he was. The hesitation fell out the window, and he picked up the slack. “What, cat got your tongue? How come you just—”

 

“—You’re _him,_ aren’t you?” She finally spoke, voice as stoic and stern as the look in her eyes. “What are you doing in a place like this?”

 

“Huh?” He said aloud, voicing genuine confusion for once. Did he know her from before? He doubted it, because he would remember someone as striking as she was. Not many people could incite genuine discomfort and fear into him with a single stare, and she was fantastically achieving the former, if not the latter. “What are you talking about, lady?”

 

“Don’t play dumb,” she admonished. “I know who you are. What I don’t understand is why you’re here. If you’re planning on bothering Momota or anyone else, I’ll make you regret it.”

 

“Who would bother with _that_ guy? He’s an idiot,” Kokichi reassured. “But seriously, I have _noooo_ idea what you’re going on about, so if you’ll excuse me!” He tried to step past her, but she mirrored his movements so perfectly that he stumbled. Escape wouldn’t be that easy, it seemed.

 

“Fine. You want me to say it, don’t you? That’s very like you, _Kokichi Ouma.”_ His name sounded like a curse word on her tongue. And maybe she was cursing it. “There’s no bloodsuckers here, if that’s what you’re concerned with.”

 

Now he couldn’t even pretend that he didn’t understand her. After all, when it came to the supernatural monsters that seemed to coexist with humans, Kokichi was the closest thing to an expert there was. He spent years chasing after one vampire, only to amass a large cult following along the way. If some person or another indirectly found out about him, he couldn’t just ignore it.

 

But he couldn’t let them get their way, either. He kept a cool smile on his face, hands behind his head like he was relaxed and not at all worried about this strange girl. “Eh? So, you know about them, too? I thought I was just imagining them~ But hey, it’s not nice to call all these party people ‘bloodsuckers’. I know they’re so _boring_ that it makes you wanna die, but you should really keep it to yourself!” Cue laughter, and Kokichi was confident that the ball was in his court now. There was no need to give this girl the satisfaction of a proper answer, after all.

 

“...” She was less amused by his antics, clearly, and pondered over what she should do before speaking again. “I’m being serious, Ouma. There’s no one like that here. So stay away from this place.”

 

“Oh, so are you like a super fan or something?” He suddenly shouted, dismissing the stare or two he got from other partygoers. “Like, do you want my autograph? Not many people can see what I _really_ do, so it makes me wonder! Wait, don’t tell me—I’ve got one of your family members in my super-awesome-evil-and-secret-not-a-lie organization, right? Or better yet, you’re actually a bloodsucker yourself, and one of my guys stabbed one of your guys in the eyes with a stake or something!” He was getting carried away again, but sometimes he had to lose himself in the lie. Otherwise it became less convincing.

 

Although he was convinced he was right at some point, if the glare he received from her was any indication. She huffed angrily. “Neither of those stupid theories are correct, y’know. You make a lot of noise for someone whose organization is supposed to be _secret._ ” She stomped a bit on her right foot, crossing her arms and looking generally annoyed. But despite this assertive behavior, her invasive eyes couldn’t stay locked on his, and thus they strayed wayward.

 

Odd.

 

“Oh, so you’re just some passerby that knows about me, then? That won’t do at all, you know I’m always looking for fresh faces to serve my army! If not, then I’ll have to kill you, y’know? Can’t have this knowledge leak out into the general public anymore than it should!” He said cheerfully, smiling widely like he was complimenting her and not threatening to kill her.

 

She was unafraid, but entirely riled up as _pure hatred_ seeped from her bloody irises. Perhaps her patience was wearing thin, because she kept tapping her fingers along her side or stamping her foot. Any minute now, she would reveal her true intentions to him—she _had_ to, otherwise this conversation would keep going nowhere.

 

Finally, she gave in. “No...it’s not a random occurrence.” She glanced around their surroundings ( _So silly,_ Kokichi thought, _you should have been paying more attention from early on!)_ to make sure that no one was _really_ listening in to them, and then she stepped forward. “...Your kind saved an old friend of mine from an attack one day.”

 

“Your friend—?”

 

“—She ended up dying in a car accident, anyway, but she never forgot what you did for her. And I won’t, either. I don’t trust you, Ouma, but I’m letting you know that I’m... _aware_ of what you’re doing. And, so…” She searched for more words to say, but found none. In fact, every word up to now has been rather chunky, misplaced, and odd. Was she not used to talking to others?

 

“Sooo?” Kokichi echoed her. “Soooo….what?”

 

“So, I’m not obligated to you or anything. But I’m letting you know what _I_ know. There’s no one here worth looking into. Myself included, we’re all...incredibly _human._ ” She sighed out, finally pleased that she was able to make a coherent sentence. Either she didn’t like small talk, or she didn’t like Kokichi. Maybe it was some awkward mix of the two. Still, she continued.

 

“And I’m warning you right now, just stay away from the people here. They’re all good...nothing like you, so just leave them alone. If you’ve got a problem, then you’ll have to face me.”

 

“Ha!” He giggled. “That’s all? Come on, why’re you so worked up over it? You make it out to be such a big deal, but you’re a real softie, I can tell.” Disregarding her scowl, Ouma continued. “But relax, relax. I hate lies and murder too, y’know. I’m not a bad guy here.”

 

“That’s…”

 

“A complete and total lie.” He paused for a moment. “I was lying about being a bad guy, not that I hate lies and murder. Everyone hates something, right? Well, I really hate lies! Really, I do!”

 

“...”

 

“Okay, okay. I’ll be honest, I was a _little_ curious about this place. Any large gathering has potential to attract _them._ Not to mention that, like, since people go in and out of rooms constantly during parties, there’s a greater chance of someone getting abducted between all the madness. Then the bloodsuckers do what their name says, and _bam—_ ” he clapped his hands together, emphasizing the smacking sound they made when doing so— “that person they just kidnapped? They’re dead.”

 

Silence again. He took this as consent to resume his end of the conversation.

 

“ _But,_ since you’re so obsessed with everyone here, I don’t think something as big as an abduction would go under your nose without difficulty! So, again, _relax,_ lady.”

 

“Stop calling me lady,” she insisted. “I have a name.”

 

“Yeah, which you didn’t bother to tell me~” Ouma reminded her. “But you know about me, so it’s only fair that I know about you, right?”

 

“I was going to tell you anyway, so don’t make this out to be so important when it’s not,” she said, meeting eyes with Kokichi once more. The raw malice disappeared from her expression, but she still withheld a look of utter contempt and distrust. But it was tame enough that she felt inclined to introduce herself to him. “I’m Maki Harukawa. And don’t be mistaken—we aren’t friends.”

 

To this, Kokichi simply laughed at Maki, making sure the sound resonated like some sort of death bell. Then he practically sang in her face. “I wouldn’t dream of it!”

 

.

.

 

Maki was certainly the most terrifying person at the party in Kokichi’s eyes. She was easily the most interesting, too, as everyone else appeared to be naive, youthful souls enjoying the party for the party’s sake alone. It made him wonder why he bothered so much with vampires, but the realization came and encircled itself—vampires would take advantage of human ignorance, to the point where their existence was widely questioned but never universally accepted. And at some point in his life, Kokichi wanted to make their existence a public service announcement of sorts, showing everyone that these were real monsters running amok on the streets alongside them.

 

But then he’d have to play the role of the dictator, and while it was easy to lead around the bunch of _idiots_ that he had under his control, he knew he wasn’t totally invested in the idea of making _every single_ vampire pay. In fact, he only cared about _one_ vampire in particular. One that he had not seen since he was six years old or so. One with golden eyes and a quiet disposition—one that slipped out of the window like sand between his fingers.

 

Yes, as long as he had his _target_ still, he couldn’t make any foolish mistakes. Although it helped to find interesting people to talk to. Even if Maki was less enthusiastic about making Kokichi’s acquaintance than he was about making hers, she still proved useful. All those people (who Kokichi knew their names after sneaking pictures of the guest list) were utterly human, complete dullards without knowledge of the greater things happening around them.

 

He vaguely wondered if he should just ask them if they know anyone with golden eyes while he was still there. Of course, there was excitement and beauty in chasing this _phantom_ around for all this time, but there was also the impatient nature that Kokichi couldn’t deny he had. If he didn’t start getting better at finding his target, he’d be dead by the time he actually found them.

 

So he asked Maki, seeing as she was the most interesting person there, but also because she was the only one that actually knew what the hell he would be talking about. “Hey, Maki Roll. Do you know anyone with golden eyes?”

 

“Who said you could call me that?” She barked at him, shooting his gleeful smile down with a harsh glare. “How did you even know to call me that?”

 

“Anyone with hearing knows that Kaito calls you that at least, like, five times every hour!” he reminded her. “What, don’t like it? Then how come Kaito gets to call you that and not me?”

 

She blushed involuntarily. “T-That’s…! That’s none of your business, Ouma!”

 

“Whatever, whatever. All that Kaito stuff is boring, anyway. I’ll ask again for you, since I’m just _so_ nice. Do you know anyone with golden eyes?”

 

“Golden eyes…” she muttered this beneath her breath, then glanced at him. “No, but I’m sure they exist out there somewhere. Why do you ask?”

 

“Why do you think I asked? It’s pretty obvious why _I_ asked,” he said, rolling his eyes for added effect. “Jeez, Momota’s idiocy must rub off on you sometimes, huh?”

 

“Stop bad mouthing him or I’ll stab you,” she threatened, with wholehearted sincerity. He tried not to look perturbed by this. Normally he would give some of his fake tears in response, but he had a feeling they wouldn’t work on Maki.

 

“That was a lie, y’know. C’mon, you can’t just believe _everything_ you hear. Then again, maybe that’s what you would expect of the leader of DICE.” He stared at his fingernails like they were more interesting than the girl in front of him (far from it, actually), and then gave a half-interested look in her direction. “But I’m serious. If you know something useful, I don’t want to go over the _long list_ of reasons why you should tell me.”

 

“I’m aware,” she answered vaguely. “I don’t know...you talk about gold, but don’t you mean just yellow? Sometimes gold can appear to be yellow and vice versa…”

 

“Okay, then, Miss Irrelevant.” He glanced at her, scoffing beneath his breath. “Someone with gold _and or_ yellow eyes.”

 

“I can only think of one person,” she answered truthfully, “but I doubt they’re the one you’re looking for.”

 

He had the same doubt, because in all his years he had never seen a vampire with golden eyes. He saw his fair share of humans with that eye color, but never one of those murderous monsters that put holes in mothers’ chests and cave in the sides of fathers’ heads. Not one of those creatures that stalks the shadows, and disappears behind broken glass like sand disappears into the wind. Not one of those foul, black-hearted beasts that did nothing but make children miserable, and ingrain their ferocious eyes into the memories of those left behind...

 

( _Oops, was he getting too caught up in the past again? Silly Kokichi.)_

 

“Tell me, anyway. Maybe they can be useful, too.”

 

“His name is Saihara,” she said, “and he’s an acquaintance of mine. He was actually supposed to show up today, but got sick at last minute. Figure out the rest yourself.”

 

“Oh? Why so defensive, suddenly? Is it because you’re worried that this _Saihara_ is actually a vamp—”

 

“—No,” she cut him off. “No, I’m just tired of hearing your voice. I only cooperated with you this far as a form of repayment for what you’ve done for my friend. We’re not allies, Ouma. After this, don’t look for me anymore.”

 

“I don’t have to look for you. You look like the nosy type to get in the way of things, so I’m sure I’ll see you without meaning to in the future.” Before she could protest his words, he laughed at her. “So, thanks for the info, Maki Roll! I’ll let my people drop off a thank-you present at your home as a reward! Catch you later!”

 

He hardly heard whatever grinding insults she had to throw at him, and his laughter blocked off the white noise of the other people in the building. In the end, Kokichi only managed to hear a single sentence bounce after his light footsteps.

 

“ _Stop calling me ‘Maki Roll’!”_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. a single word resounded in his head at this time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another note about the ENG localization: I know that since I'm using it, I should be spelling it "Oma" and "Shuichi" but fuck that noise, lmao.

How did catch such a lucky break?

 

How did he keep his excitement within?

 

The short answer is he  _ didn’t.  _ His break wasn’t as lucky as he thought, and Kokichi didn’t think once to mask the sheer  _ giddiness  _ that was rising in his chest. For all these years, he had been chasing a  _ ghost  _ of a vampire, running after an unholy image that he had the misfortune of coming upon in the middle of the night. And now that the end might be in sight, he wasn’t quite ready for it. 

 

But whatever he was feeling, he hid it well behind his wondrous smile. No one could tell he was suffering internally, or that he was cursing himself for being so slow all this time, or that he was afraid to die but even more afraid to live and see this through. No one could tell that he was recounting every fighting technique he ever learned, or that he counted to make sure that he had his trusty knives on his person still. They were made of silver, the best anti-vampire material around, and were quite effective in killing any living creature—vampire or not. 

 

But Kokichi couldn’t easily think of killing another human or an animal. He hated the thought of seeing a repeat of what he had already been forced to see all those years ago. Not to mention that the vampires did plenty of killing without his help, so he didn’t see a reason why he should aid them in that regard.

 

Rather, he was curious about the one called Saihara. Maki had only described him as an acquaintance, but her willingness to expose him to Ouma was a sign that she didn’t really care about him as much as she should. Or maybe she was certain that Saihara was a human, and that the real satisfaction was in leading Kokichi on a wild goose hunt over an imaginary vampire. Either way, he knew that he had to see the results of such an endeavor on his own, and it was better to be safe than sorry. His footsteps were light and playful as he walked down the street, completely out of tune with the discordant thoughts inside his mind.

 

He had done his research on Saihara, though. According to the internet, he ran a small detective agency with his uncle, and that establishment wasn’t too far from where Kaede’s party had been hosted. If anything, this was a fateful and opportune moment for Kokichi, because he could clear up his suspicions much sooner than he thought he would. 

 

It was  _ so _ much sooner that he felt his hand shake without his permission. The nerves were really getting to him, something that didn’t happen unless it was a truly dire situation. He grimaced at the sight of it, and stilled his shaking hand as he walked.

 

_ Relax, already.  _ He told himself, scorning his weakness and mentality.  _ You can worry more about this when you’re dead, maybe. Which, if you screw up too much, will be very soon.  _

 

_ Idiot. _

 

.

.

 

The detective agency was in a holed up building, caught between an antique store and some small insurance office. The street was busy but not too crowded, and Kokichi was thankful for that because he would rather have less outside interference than was necessary. In fact, he’d like to tie up that _fucker_ himself _,_ and take him some place where no one could hear his screams. Then he would bleed his body dry, and lose himself in the mad chorus of dripping blood and Saihara’s pleas for mercy.

 

(He would never listen to such pitiful lies, though.)

 

Just as he was about to enter the establishment itself, he heard a loud noise that sounded like a gunshot. His instincts made him get down and take cover, but his curiosity made him peek his head out to see where exactly the shot had fired from.

 

At any rate, there was a police car not too far away from him, and cops were trying to pin down a ruthless criminal that was trying to escape. The shot had come from there, undoubtedly, and it was evident that the conflict was getting dragged to a larger scale than was needed. And somewhere along the lines, the guilty party had turned his back to the cops, twisted away from their grasp, and ran down the street.

 

More gunshots followed. Kokichi tried not to wince, and when the scene seemed to disappear down the road, he felt complete and utter relief. Now, he could resume his business, and he would enter that detective agency, calmly asking to see someone named Saihara, where he would put an end to this once and for all—

 

“Shuuichi, wait!” A gruff, older voice called out as the door to the agency swung open. Kokichi barely had time to observe, let alone act, but what he saw was strange, indeed.

 

A young man, probably around Kokichi’s actual age (not his physical age, because Ouma could still pass off as a middle schooler at worst and a high schooler at best) had run out, wearing all black in a neat, studious outfit. There was a hat on top of his head, too, and Kokichi vaguely wondered how he had time to put that on if he was in a rush, or if he was just wearing it to begin with. 

 

If  _ Shuuichi  _ really was his name—as the unknown voice had addressed him as such—then he seemed to disregard any ties to it and everything else as he rushed down the street. For a few seconds, Ouma had to wonder  _ why,  _ but then realized that Shuuichi was transfixed on the criminal apprehension outside, and that he couldn’t let the criminal get away like that. 

 

_ He was probably the one to discover that the criminal was guilty in the first place.  _

 

It all made perfect sense to Kokichi, and before he knew it, he was chasing after Shuuichi. While the man inside the building could have been Saihara, Kokichi decided that this Shuuichi boy was the one that Maki was talking about earlier. He was definitely Maki’s age, and looked like the type of guy to fake sickness in order to get out of an unbearably social party which he probably had no interest in. Yes, it was all starting to fall into place, now.

 

He was the one. 

 

And all Kokichi needed to do was to see  _ Shuuichi’s eyes.  _ After all, Maki swore they were yellow or some variant, but Kokichi needed to see exactly  _ which _ variant. While he had never seen a yellow-eyed vampire, just in case he had to be sure with this one. And even though it was highly likely that Shuuichi could also be a mistake-in-waiting, something more than Kokichi’s general cunning had told him otherwise.

 

It was his gut, which was screaming frantically to give chase to the strange boy, despite the obvious danger that lied in pursuing an escaped convict and company. But Kokichi didn’t mind it, because after he confirmed his suspicious he would run just as fast in the opposite direction, and pretend that he never met a Shuuichi Saihara to begin with. 

 

It was so easy, he wondered why he spent so long agonizing over this moment. But those thoughts faded away as a new scene unfolded before him. There, in the skies, were the momentous skyscrapers of the downtown view, along with the horizon that was obscured by city-smog. And on the ground were countless spectators, many people screaming as the criminal dashed past them in rude shoves, followed by the police, followed by Shuuichi like some chain reaction. There was also the clutter of cars, buses, and other vehicles occupying the roads. Plus the signs, vending machines, and other general objects that served nothing more than to get in Kokichi’s way. 

 

It all annoyed him to a good degree. He wished he was bigger or that other people were smaller, because then he wouldn’t keep getting bumped in every which direction whenever someone collided with him. And there were times he had to jump up in order to see ahead of him, only to breathe out in relief when Shuuichi was still in his sight.

 

Eventually, all the running came to a halt, and Shuuichi helped the police catch the escapee for the last time. They thanked him for all of his work, and made sure to securely handcuff the bastard this time. There were words coming from the convict’s mouth, things along the lines of “Damn you, Saihara!” and “I’ll come back for you, you hear?” Kokichi couldn’t help but scoff at the ill-timed melodrama of it all, not to mention the easily-anticipated antics on the convict’s end. 

 

_ Why were people so boring sometimes? _

 

Then he brought his gaze to Shuuichi, realizing he was still only seeing his backside after all this time. He had a knack for turning his back on him, despite not knowing he was there in the first place. And if this guy was supposed to be a detective, or whatever, then he ought to have better self-awareness than  _ this _ . 

 

Still, Ouma waited for the crowd to die down. He waited for the people to disperse, so there would be less witnesses to see what he was about to do— _ if  _ he had to do it, that is. It seemed as if Saihara was doing the same, because he remained behind even after the police left (and after they thanked him, because without Saihara they would have let that fool escape). 

 

Surely enough, the general crowd dispersed, and the chaos settled down. Then, using this as his cue, Kokichi called out to him in a clear and proud voice.

 

“Shuuichi Saihara!” 

 

A quiet gasp—but not silent enough because Kokichi heard it anyway—escaped his lips, and Shuuichi turned around in full. Even though his hat was obscuring most of his face for some reason, there was some visibility to his eyes. They were just visible enough for Kokichi to see them for what they were.

 

He nearly froze in place. That same primal fear from years before crept into his veins like ice, and he wanted to remain still forever because that  _ fear  _ gripped him just as wildly as it did back then. The memories made him feel small, as if he had never grown from that day, and that he was still a six-year-old boy—helplessly watching as his parents’ murderers escaped out the bedroom window with powers beyond his understanding. 

 

It was as if he was still  _ powerless _ . And these feelings arose from the mere sight of a sliver of the eye, a tiny patch of  _ gold  _ hiding beneath a black rim. He gulped.

 

“U-Um,” the other stuttered, a bit shocked to see someone call him out so assertively. “Is there something I can help you with?”

 

Kokichi breathed out, an act which released all his hesitation and fear at once. Of course, this could still be a  _ huge  _ mistake. He didn’t see Shuuichi’s eyes completely from where he stood, since they were still halfway-blocked by that  _ stupid hat  _ of his. He couldn’t jump to any conclusions yet, because if he did, it would lead to him attacking a possibly innocent person. 

 

(But, if you asked him about it today, not only would Kokichi deny it, but he would tell himself that he  _ knew  _ it was impossible for Shuuichi to  _ not  _ be the guy he had been searching for. There was no way that he wasn’t the one. There was no way—)

 

So, Ouma did the next best thing he could. He felt for a small throwing knife in his pocket, one of those tiny ones that weren’t as deadly as they seemed, and wouldn’t be too much of a loss if he ended up losing them in the chaos. He positioned it carefully between his slender fingers, and visually aimed at the other’s head with his careful, cunning eyes.

 

As if catching onto this little game, Shuuichi stared back at Kokichi with his own trepid gaze. While he did not assert some sort of malicious intent towards the other, he did not give into the smaller boy’s stare, either. They remained at a deadlock, but there was no way for Shuuichi to tell what Kokichi was planning—even if he  _ was  _ a vampire.

 

“How do you know my name?” Shuuichi asked again. “Do I...do I know you?”

 

“That depends,” Kokichi said, smiling slowly. “Let me see for myself.”

 

“Huh…?”

 

The supreme leader ignored the detective in this instance, deciding to rely on actions instead of his usual words. Normally, he preferred to talk things out, but in times like these when his heart was on fire and his mind wasn’t the clearest it could be, only actions would suffice. So he let his movements do all the talking, as he quickly removed his hand from his pocket, and stepped forward with a light gait. The blade went flying out from his grasp, shooting from the resting place in between his fingers.

 

Shuuichi had no time to react properly. He cowered for a second, and instinctively brought his hands up to block what he suspected to be a knife flying straight for his face. Instead, his hands met the lonely air, and the knife wasn’t anywhere  _ near _ his face. 

 

The knife was angled at his  _ hat,  _ instead _.  _ The force of the throw was enough to dislodge the article of clothing, and the tiny blade cluttered onto the ground with a defeated noise. So did the hat, which tumbled down the road and got trampled on by various feet. But Kokichi didn’t care.

 

Shuuichi’s eyes closed from flinching, but then slowly opened when he realized he was unharmed. The action was so,  _ so _ slow, like he was brand new to the idea, like he was a newborn babe opening their eyes for the first time. Although Kokichi wasn’t sure what  _ that  _ looked like, he had a semblance of the idea. Someone opening their eyes for the first time was a sacred thing, wasn’t it? It was innocent, bright, new, and  _ alive _ —it was everything and nothing all at once. 

 

And when Shuuichi’s eyes actually opened, Kokichi found himself thinking that the description had been accurate. It was as if Shuuichi was awakening for the first time. And, for the first time, Kokichi could see how he  _ really  _ looked, without the shade of the hat blocking him from view.

 

His lashes were long, fluttering, and casting shadows on his rather  _ attractive  _ face. Lips were barely apart from each other, still quivering from initial anxiety and shock, before exposing a sliver of white teeth from behind. And the cheeks were noticeable too, albeit a bit on the slight side but not bad looking, the same of which could be said about his hair—black in some instances but somehow looking as if it were dark blue in this particular lighting. 

 

And, of course, there was the most prominent part of the face and easily the most beautiful— _ the eyes.  _ Shuuichi’s eyes opened this time, and it was like the morning started over again; it was like sunshine was pouring down on Kokichi’s shoulders. He could hear his mother singing and his father snoring again. He could feel an empty hole in  _ someone’s  _ chest filling up again, and he could see a broken window fixing itself, reversing the damage done as if on rewind. 

 

A single word resounded in his head at this time. A single thought got the gears turning, igniting the spark in otherwise dull and vapidly violet eyes. His smile elongated to dangerous lengths, and he felt as if his face might fall off!  _ Wouldn’t that be something? _

 

_ Gold.  _ He thought to himself, realizing that after the initial glee, his face must have been as blank as paper on the outside. Oh well, it was better than losing all his emotions at once.

 

_ His eyes are gold.  _ The thoughts kept going, and he felt empty again. He had been so whole just now, why was the feeling disappearing all of a sudden? He wanted to yell at the warmth to come back and return to him, and to never leave him ever again.

 

_ Just like before.  _ Oh, right. The joy of being right was being outmatched by the fear of being wrong. Or rather, it was outmatched by the fear of having to set out what he spent so long doing. It would all come to an end in minutes, and he had the means of ending it all in his hands. 

 

( _ In his hands in his hands in his hands) _

 

“What was that for?” Shuuichi finally spoke out, not as fearful as he once was. Maybe the lapse in response from Kokichi’s end made up for this renewed confidence. There was hint of annoyance in his voice, although that was undermined by the soft and gentle pitch of the voice itself. It was very careful, sweet, and kind for a voice. It was nothing like the monsters’ growls that Kokichi had grown used to, but he stilled feared its monstrosity all the same.

 

For the first time in his life, Kokichi Ouma felt his words fail him in a situation where he had the upper hand. And it was an odd sensation at the very least. Was this what it was like to be on the other end of the mind games he so greatly loved? Was this what it was like to have the purpose of one’s life come to a long-anticipated end? Was this defeat or victory, settling in his grasp? So many things circulated through his mind at once, it became nearly impossible to tell.

 

The only thing that grounded him to the earth was the god-awful face of the killer in front of him. He seemed so calm and so rational, Kokichi vaguely wondered if Shuuichi was also a skilled liar himself. Or maybe he was unintentionally hard to understand, and the reality would be that he was extremely naive, even for a vampire’s standards. Or maybe it was Kokichi’s frantic mindset that made it hard to analyze the situation, seeing as he would function normally on any other occasion. Again, there were too many things in mental circulation to fully understand.

 

The boy faltered, but regained his composure. This time, he felt his back pocket, and reached for a much larger knife that was kept hidden there. It was sharp, silver, and ready to pierce flesh of any kind. He wondered if Shuuichi’s skin would burn on contact in response to the metal like other vampires’ skin did. He wondered if he could see Shuuichi’s fangs when the other opened his mouth to scream out in pain.

 

He wondered.

 

“Oh, nothing. It’s just that my life is gonna come to an end.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You should worry about yourself, Shuuichi.” Ouma stepped forward with surprising speed, one that could maybe match vampires if they were careless enough to be slow around him. Or in this case, if they were unsuspecting of a further attack on their person. Shuuichi had no time to properly retaliate, because Kokichi was a deathly shadow set upon him with no intention of stopping. 

 

Kokichi moved with such precision that Shuuichi vaguely wondered if he was actually human, or some machination sent out to specifically target him. Either way, he blithely dodged the initial sharp edge of a dagger, only to stumble when he felt a foot stamp hard on him. In that few seconds’ time, the blade readjusted itself and made its mark—cutting a long wound into the side of Shuuichi’s body. 

 

It hurt more than he expected it to. The initial shock made him yell, but then he realized that the time he spent screaming could be spent doing something else. Within seconds, Shuuichi was bolting out of Kokichi’s way, speeding through the crowd like his life depended on it.

 

Because it really  _ did _ depend on it, this time. And Kokichi made it known that he wouldn’t give up even if Shuuichi ran to the ends of the earth. Ouma brandished his weapon but kept it down at his side, and gave chase to the fleeing Saihara.

 

“ _ Saihara, come back! I’m not done playing with you~ _ ” 

 

.

.

 

Kokichi didn’t give up. Even when he had to weave in between cars during traffic, or even when he had to jump over objects and other people—he had a persistence that wouldn’t let up. Some of those tasks would be normally impossible for him, despite his lithe build, but the pure  _ adrenaline  _ running through his veins compensated for this lack of total physicality. When this would all be over (and if Ouma was even alive to see the next morning rise), he would have some  _ seriously sore  _ muscles afterwards!

 

Shuuichi had the same desire to live, however, and this was evident as he didn’t give up running away. Every now and then, he’d look over his shoulder to check if Ouma was still hot on his tail. Seeing that dogged determination in his bruise-like eyes only made his chest pang with sadness and fear in tandem, which combined together with his utter  _ confusion  _ to make everything worse than it was.

 

But really, Saihara’s will to keep on living was almost  _ impressive _ in Ouma’s eyes. He was worried that the other would be unable to provide stimulating entertainment in his last minutes, but this thrilling chase was a clear counterargument to that worry. In all his years of chasing after vampires, never had the pursuit been this  _ thrilling. _

 

And he hadn’t even fired any shots, thrown any knives, or done anything since the first confrontation. Shuuichi was running wholeheartedly, and an endeavor like that might have tired out someone with less resolve than Kokichi. But it was  _ Kokichi  _ he was dealing with _ ,  _ and whenever he had his sights set on something, he was determined to get it. Even if it meant getting hurt or hated in the process, as long as he could achieve his goal then he didn’t care  _ too  _ much about the means of getting there. 

 

(If Shuuichi were a bit more cruel, he would have taken another person hostage, or done something to hurt Kokichi so the pain would distract him. He did neither of those things and just kept running.)

 

But he wasn’t  _ stupid,  _ though _.  _ He knew his stamina would run out, and that he would reach his limit like anything else. So he began to keep a more even pace at some point, making sure that Shuuichi  _ never left  _ his sight, all the while trying to figure out a way to cut him off one last time.

 

He saw his window of opportunity when Shuuichi took to the rooftops for the chase. At this point he wasn’t even  _ hiding  _ his vampirism (if Kokichi caught up to him, and Shuuichi would reply “I’m just really good at parkour” he knew he could call him out on that clear and blatant  _ bullshit _ ) as he leaped from ledge to ledge without any hesitation. Watching his taller, thinner figure gracefully move from one perch to another was rather entertaining on its lonesome, and Kokichi would stop to observe such a feat if he wasn’t so keen on killing him.

 

But he  _ was  _ keen on the act, and this showed when he followed Shuuichi even on the skylines. Kokichi knew he was running on raw, soon-to-be-depleted adrenaline, so he didn’t hesitate burning himself out on the rooftops. While he faltered here or there, he refused to fall off the edge and die, so he remained hot on Saihara’s trail.

 

“Quit it already!” The detective yelled over his shoulder. “Leave me alone!”

 

“In your dreams, Saihara!” The supreme leader retorted, trying to catch his fleeting breath. “Just give up and it’ll be much easier on you, I promise~”

 

“N-No way!” He squeaked out, almost slipping on a ledge when he wasn’t careful enough. He caught himself from falling anyway, another act that proved his inhuman capabilities.  _ A real human would have been a bloody pancake at the bottom of the street by now!  _ Kokichi rationalized this observation in his mind.  _ Ugh, stop being so stubborn, Shuuichi! _

 

“Did you hear me? Just...give up...already!” He was running out of breath. Granted, he was impressed with his stamina thus far, but to run out of energy while he was so close to the end? The thought of failing his mission crushed him inside.

 

“You’re the one that should give up, already!” Shuuichi insisted. “Just stop it before you get hurt!”

 

“I’m not gonna get hurt!” Kokichi defied this reasoning, even when he knew it was right. “You’re the one that’s gonna  _ die!  _ Here, I’ll prove it!” 

 

Ouma reached for his other pocket, grasping another blade in his hand before throwing it with shocking accuracy. Shuuichi twisted to dodge the worst of it, but failed to realize that by doing so, it would land in another less-vital-but-still-painful place on his body. In this instance, the knife dug itself into his left shoulder blade. He cried out pathetically, genuinely hurt by the action.

 

A deep crimson started pooling where the injury was, although Kokichi noticed a faint  _ pink  _ in there somewhere, signifying that the silver blade was doing more than just cutting into flesh. It was  _ eating away  _ at the meat and bone that lay there, with a distinct natural poison that only affected a certain breed of humans.

 

_ Vampire vampire vampire. God I told you so didn’t I. This is what you get for everything Shuuichi oh my god I’m gonna kill you I’m gonna kill you I’m gonna kill you. You liar thief murderer idiot loser I hate you. Die die die!  _ The thoughts were jumbled up into an incoherent mess inside his head, and he was sure that the look on his face didn’t do any justice to his clarity, either. But that didn’t really matter anymore, because the end was finally in sight. 

 

Kokichi used the last of his strength to jump the distance between his rooftop and Shuuichi’s, and gasped for air as he barely made the landing. But he didn’t have to worry himself further, because Shuuichi’s weakened form was doubled over in pain, desperately clawing at the silver blade embedded in his skin. The pain must have been agonizing enough that it distracted him from the hunter’s antics. He had no time to divide his attention between Ouma and the knife, even though it was obvious that he had to keep an eye on the former in order to ensure his life.

 

Violet eyes flickered to the sight of the blade’s handle, which was sticking out from the shoulder blade like a thorn protruding from a stem. _ Does it burn, or does it just feel dull? Is it cold or hot when the silver touches the skin?  _ The more curious side of Ouma wanted to see the silver’s effects on vampires up close, but the rational side of himself realized that he could observe such effects  _ after  _ Shuuichi was dead. So, listening to his more logical side, Ouma wielded the last blade he had on him. It was tiny in comparison to the ones he used before, but with Saihara’s current state it didn’t matter if it was small or not. A quick slit to the throat would be good enough for anyone.

 

He sauntered closer to the other’s injured body, relishing in the fleeting look of  _ fear  _ that briefly crossed Shuuichi’s face. Those golden eyes were wide, confused, and full of terror. Those lips were quivering once more, actually morphed into some pitiful frown that couldn’t be masked no matter how hard he tried. And on top of that, his body was curled inward, like he was trying to hide something from Kokichi even though there was nothing to conceal. 

 

( _ Nothing you can do about it now, you know.) _

 

“Finally caught up to you! I really had to put my all into it! That was really fun, you should be proud!” The words were so fluid, it was as if Kokichi just took the elevator and stairs to get here, instead of various other rooftops. He smiled goofily, the expression further confusing Shuuichi and angering him all at once. 

 

“But the game’s up, Shuuichi. I’m finally gonna win.”

 

“Who even...are...you?” Shuuichi croaked, surprised that he found difficulty to speak when it was only a shoulder wound he was suffering from. But the pinkish color spread over the red blood, indicating the metal’s effect on his body. He shrunk away at the thought of it.

 

“Oooooh, that’s right! I never got to properly introduce myself! How silly of me. My name is Kokichi Ouma. I don’t mind telling you this, since I’ll be killing you in just a few short moments. Such a shame, too. Even though it was really, really fun chasing you, I’m kinda disappointed that you didn’t wanna do more to escape. Y’know, you could have easily gotten away from me all those times!” The leader gestured to the rooftops behind them, the ledges that could have simply lead Kokichi to his premature death instead of his long-earned soon-to-be victory. He shrugged.

 

“If I were you, I would have just pushed me off the edge when I was struggling. But instead you just wanted to keep running. I don’t really get it, but to each their own.”

 

“I  _ was _ trying to escape,” Shuuichi said, voice full of worry and regret. “I didn’t think you’d follow me all this way…”

 

“Never underestimate the power of…” he paused momentarily, thinking of what adjective-noun to put at the end of that sentence. Last time he faced a vampire like this, he said to “never underestimate the power of DICE”. But given the situation, that would be useless since Shuuichi obviously doesn’t know what DICE  _ is,  _ and Kokichi wasn’t in a mood to give a whole dissertation about his group _.  _ So instead, he thought of the first silly thing that crossed his mind.

 

“Never underestimate the power of geminis. I heard we don’t give up easily, or some other inspiring astrological thing like that. Etcetera, etcetera, you know.” 

 

“W-What…? What are you talking about?”

 

“I was lying about that, of course! But I said I’d kill you, didn’t I? I always keep my promises!” Kokichi sprung forward, and laughed as he was able to pin down Shuuichi with only some protest on the other’s end. He even managed to straddle him, hoping their positions would help to further humiliate him in his last moments of life. The fact that he was able to do all of this with minimal effort was shocking. Ouma was half a foot shorter than Saihara, for goodness’ sake! And he weighed next to nothing so he could have been swatted away like a fly. Was Saihara a weak vampire, or just a suicidal one? How could he let himself be dominated so easily?

 

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” Kokichi said, holding the small knife directly above Shuuichi’s neck. He didn’t plunge downward yet, seemingly reflective on all the struggles it took just to get up here. All those years that would finally start to mean something, and all that work he did wasn’t done in vain...he thought about it all. And that patience allowed him to be just a bit merciful in these crucial moments.

 

“So, any last words before I kill you for good?”

 

“Why?” Shuuichi croaked out. “Why are you doing this? I haven’t done anything—”

 

“—Oh, come  _ on!”  _ Kokichi whined, still gripping tightly onto the blade’s handle despite his playfulness. “Why did you forget, silly? Don’t tell me you’re a big idiot that can’t remember killing innocent people. It’s fun to play dumb once in a while, but even during your last moments of life? Really?”

 

“I’m being serious!” Shuuichi insisted, doing his best to get his words in before Kokichi sealed the deal. He tried not to focus on the silver edge hanging above his jugular vein… “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, at all…”

 

_ He’s telling the truth.  _ That was the first thing Kokichi thought of in response to Shuuichi’s words. He was such an attuned liar, after all, that he could tell when someone else was generally lying and when they were not. But Saihara’s voice shook so naturally, and he stuttered so easily...he must have been _ honest  _ in his reply. 

 

And honesty confused Ouma at times. Everyone glorified honorable actions, condemning lies to the darkness as they believed the truth was what set them free. But wasn’t that the opposite? Didn’t the truth confine others instead? Didn’t it take over their lives and ruin it in the same turn? Right now, the truth was doing that exact same thing to Kokichi, because everything he thought he knew up to this point suddenly became questionable.

 

“...Huh?” Kokichi asked aloud, not bothering to mask his true bewilderment. “What are you talking about, Saihara?”

 

“You heard me, Ouma. I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even  _ know  _ you,” Shuuichi pointed this out, voice cracking without his permission. It was the anxiety of this situation alone that hurt him, and he knew it. “S-So what’s going on? Why is this happening…?  **You should explain this to me because I’m really,** **_really_ ** **confused. I-If you’re actually going to kill me like you said, then I want that to be my final wish...** ”

 

Paused movement ensued, and Kokichi’s face went blank again. He knew it did, because if he didn’t purposefully make a good expression, his body would just  _ forget  _ how to keep up its own appearance. Or something like that, it was hard to tell with everything spinning around him just now. He became aware of the situation again, only to be in a foul mood as a result of this turnabout.

 

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? Killing you was supposed to be easier than this!” He whined again, voice coming to an annoyed peak like this was some upset in a game he was playing and not a life-or-death situation. “Okay, so for convenience’s sake, let’s say I’m seventeen years old right now. I’m really  _ not _ , but like I said, convenience. Okay, so now imagine that I’m a six-year-old eating sweet buns and drinking soda at a late hour in the night because I can’t sleep and all my homework is done and my parents are upstairs sleeping. Except they’re  _ not  _ sleeping and I can hear a loud noise like crashing, so I run up to see what the hell’s going on, like any other six-year-old would!”

 

He continued without missing a beat. “And I walk into the room, turn on the lights, and my parents are  _ dead.  _ Dead as  _ dirt,  _ Saihara. And in that room I can’t make anything out except for blood and bone, and this weird shadow-monster thing that jumps out the broken window. And then I see something else that shouldn’t be there. And it’s someone with really  _ ugly  _ golden eyes, staring at me like they can’t believe what they’re seeing even though they  _ can  _ and they just wanna play it off like they’re some cool asshole, or something.”

 

He doesn’t stop. “And  _ then  _ that golden-eyed monster runs to the windowsill, and stares at me for an eternity before I beg them to wait for me. I want them to  _ wait _ and explain to me what the _ hell _ just happened, because it used to be three people in that house but now I’m six years old and I have to start raising myself because my mom has a hole in her chest and my dad’s head is caved in on the side.”

 

Shuuichi wanted him to stop, but he didn’t have time to say anything. Kokichi talked at a rapid fire pace, drilling the rest of the story into his eardrums.. It was nonstop and dreadful. “And  _ then  _ that golden-eyed stranger falls out the window. I’m laughing to myself thinking that the people that murdered my parents just turned into pancakes on the side of my house, because there’s no way they could survive falling out the second story! Okay, maybe they  _ could _ survive a fall at that height, but I was literally six years old and I used to be scared of shopping carts because I thought you’d die if you fell out of them, so imagine what I’d think if I saw someone fall out a  _ window! _ Anyway, that’s when I look out the window and I see nothing except that shitty bicycle they bought for me when I was four years old, and leaves from the nearby trees that don’t mean anything anymore.”

 

“Now, this is a convenient story, yes? But it all happened when I was six. I’m certainly older than that now, and all this time I’ve had to take care of myself. And I’m sort of tired of having nightmares and seeing your eyes in my dreams and whatever. Because even if you conveniently  _ forgot  _ about it all _ ,  _ I  _ didn’t.  _ I remembered that it was  _ you  _ in my parents’ room that night, and it was  _ you  _ that probably killed them or something. Right? Right?” He prodded the other in the stomach with his free hand, keeping the dominant hand holding onto the knife at a close range. It wasn’t a painful jab like it could have been, but rather it was a friendly poke, like he was Shuuichi’s friend egging him on. 

 

He smiled before repeating himself again. “ _ Right?” _

 

“Stop it!” Shuuichi yelled, having taken his full of the gruelling story. “Kokichi you have to—no, you can  _ stop now. _ ” The words weren’t begging for the ending like the initial exclamation was. In fact, they were almost sweet, consoling words, like the words of a parent telling a child it was okay to  _ stop crying, already _ . Like the words of a teacher telling the class that the exam time was over, and they can  _ stop stressing about it all, already. _

 

Kokichi blinked. He felt exhausted for some reason, and wondered why he went on talking for so long like he did. But at the other’s verbal assertion, he seemed to regain his senses again. And as he did, he really panicked because  _ holy shit,  _ did he just tell this vampire his entire life story? Granted it was the same vampire that made the story the way it was to begin with, but that didn’t mean he had to recite every agonizing detail like that! And while Kokichi could certainly talk up a storm if he wanted to, this was not a situation in which he needed to indulge in the enemy like that.

 

_ So why did he?  _ Why did he keep blathering away just now? And why did he only stop when Saihara said he could—when Saihara gave him  _ permission  _ to stop? It confused him enough to the point where he temporarily forgot where he was, which allowed the tiniest window of escape for the other to take. 

 

And that’s exactly what he did. The momentary lapse in Kokichi’s judgement was just enough to usurp him, and the boy yelped as he felt Shuuichi move suddenly from underneath him, using his strength to shove him off and squirm free from his reign. Then he stood up at his full height, easily towering over the other who was really tired at this point, but also really bewildered and not understanding what was happening. 

 

Shuuichi knew better than to give him a chance to understand, however. He ran away from Kokichi, staggering as the pain collected in his shoulder was reaching the point of  _ agony.  _ But he couldn’t give up, because if he did then the other would be so sure to follow him once more. The nearby rooftops were too close, though, that any of them would give enough purchase for a continuation in their chase.

 

And that’s  _ not  _ what Saihara wanted. He wanted the chase to  _ end,  _ not continue, because he might actually die this time if he gave Ouma the chance. With that resolve stuck in his head, Shuuichi shuffled towards the edge of the building, and stared down at the great height below him. There was no comfort to be had in the cars, scaffolds, or people below, but somehow they were less frightening adversaries than the vampire hunter on the roof right now. The detective took a deep breath, and decided.

 

He threw himself off the edge. It was dangerous, yes, but he wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t sure he could come out of it unscathed. And while Kokichi was doggedly pursuing him up until now, there was no way that he would follow after him now. If his vengeance was as great as he made it seem, it meant that he had to be  _ alive  _ in order to chase Shuuichi again. So there was no way that he could have followed him. There was no way...

 

“...As if! You can’t hide from me now, Saihara!” 

 

_ No way,  _ he thought starkly, looking up from his falling position to see something just as heart-sinking above him.

 

It was Kokichi. And he was, indeed, falling off the building after Shuuichi. And unlike him, he seemed unfazed by this action, even though falling would mean certain death for someone like him.

 

“You’re really...difficult…” Saihara said aloud, sounding utterly defeated. “Why did you follow me?”

 

“Because I’m  _ not done  _ playing with you! I won’t let you leave me!” His voice broke with desperation and the sensation of air rushing past his body all at once. His eyes widened, and a wet sheen of tears threatened to spill out from beneath him. It was a sad, miserable sight, and Shuuichi couldn’t look away from him even if he tried. 

 

(And oh, did he  _ try. _ )

 

“Ouma…”

 

Shuuichi sighed, and closed his eyes slowly to think about the situation. He was really being pushed to his limits, wasn’t he? This was what he got for being a good citizen, for helping out the local police with their efforts? How awful. He should have stayed inside like he was told to, because if he never ventured outside he would have never met Kokichi Ouma, and he would never be in the situation he was now. 

 

“I guess...there’s no changing things this time, huh…?”

 

Kokichi was starting to lose consciousness against his will. It must have been the wind, the force of falling, or the sheer exhaustion his body had after running on adrenaline for so long. He was crashing down in more ways than one, and suddenly he cursed himself for being so unusually  _ impulsive.  _

 

He closed his eyes, and felt the world melt out from beneath his weightless feet. He felt something soft and warm grab hold of him, and a sedate voice murmuring out into the air: “I’ve got to take care of you now, don’t I? S-so, sorry about this, Ouma, but I’ve got things from here on out…”

 

A weak nod or squeal would have been sufficient enough for an answer, but Kokichi didn’t have strength for either of those things. He gasped for a final breath of air, and then everything blacked out for real this time. 

 

He dreamed what he believed to be the last dream he would have in his life. And like every dream before this one, he saw the same thing in his mind, over and over again.

 

He saw those stupid, insipid,  _ golden _ eyes, staring right into his soul...

  
  
  



	4. it was a disparate wish to stay alive

Saihara knew his faults. He knew that he could be short-sighted, over-analytical, and obsessive at times. He could lose himself for days writing in his notebooks, or reading about cases solved and unsolved alike. He could drop everything in lieu for a project coming up, ignoring his basic health and hygiene at times. And worse was when he sometimes appeared stubborn or snappy at anyone who tried to drag him out of such destructive habits. 

 

These days, that job fell to his uncle, or his friends. Kaito Momota and Maki Harukawa, two completely different individuals that were both somehow his friend at the same time, were examples of such people. Whenever they visited him at the office or just at home, they always made sure to drag him away from whatever thing he was fixating on at the time. Another friend, Kaede Akamatsu, also helped in this regard, although she was gentler than the other two and far more pleasant to be around.

 

Saihara knew he was difficult at times, though. So he thanked each of his friends and family for being the way they were, and supporting him at times when he seemed cornered by his own deductions. He also apologized for everytime he ran off ahead without thinking, because as Kaede put it, he’s got that “detective’s instinct” to go off running on his own and such. 

 

That instinct came alive one day, when he watched the police try to take in the criminal that he caught earlier. After all, the deductions and mysteries were completely his job—actual apprehension of criminals and accomplices, however, were the police’s duty. Although they seemed to struggle with the idea of it, and Shuuichi flinched when he heard a gunshot.

 

Within seconds, he could see the culprit dashing down the streets, becoming a blur as he passed by the detective agency’s window, too. And Shuuichi was good at deductions, but he was also great at chasing others. Or at least, when the chase suited him. Now was one of those times, and he dropped everything he was holding (quite literally, the pens and papers cluttered to the ground like feathers from a bird’s wings) to run outside and give chase. 

 

He was only a short distance behind the cops, who were running after the criminal that was just out of their reach. They were chasing each other in a frenzied yet comical scene, and Shuuichi was thankful that he had his height because he could see where the chase went in the event that he got caught up in foot traffic. 

 

Luckily, he never staggered far behind, and soon enough he caught up to the police and culprit when there was nowhere left to run. He was hesitant at first, but decided that he could help the apprehension part of the investigation for once. So he rushed in to restrain the culprit’s arms behind his head, and that was when the police handcuffed him for good this time. Shuuichi finally had time to breathe, and with that momentary worry out of the way, he could go back to doing whatever he wanted. 

 

Still, he waited for people to leave and for eyes to stop staring at him first. And once that disappeared, he had to wait for the murmuring to cease, too. It was hard to think with all the noise, after all. From a heart that was beating  _ too loudly  _ (the culprit’s, maybe?) to cars that honked without reservation, everything needed to sort itself out before he could resume productivity on his end. It took minutes for it all to die out, and that was when Shuuichi decided he should head back to the agency, and apologize for the mess he left his uncle to sort out…

 

“Shuuichi Saihara!”

 

The voice was strange, unknown, but crisp and clear. It called out to him with such an assertion that Shuuichi felt like shrinking in on himself. Why did conflict have to start now, when he was just about to leave? He would never understand other people, regardless of their origin. 

 

With a quiet breath, he turned around, and faced the image of a complete stranger. The most noticeable thing at first was their height. They were quite short in comparison to Shuuichi, who had a habit of slouching at times, but even then he easily towered over the other by a good six inches or so. Beyond that, Shuuichi took notice of other visual aspects. The stranger’s hair was dark purple to the point where it might appear black, but then the ends showed more vibrant strands of purple that only served to confuse Shuuichi on what the actual color was. The hair itself was messy, flippant, like it had never met the soft and docile touch of a brush. 

 

Then there was the stranger’s clothes, which were blindingly white with a black-and-white checkered scarf to go with it. The buttons on the jacket were, unfortunately, mismatched in color and completely infuriating to look at for too long. It was the only thing that Saihara didn’t bother sparing more than a second glance for. 

 

Of course, the most striking features of the stranger lied in their  _ face.  _ A round, childish face with large, vibrantly purple eyes—coupled together with thick lashes and fair skin—made the stranger seem more like a baby doll rather than a person. It didn’t help that their face, at the time, was surprisingly void of emotion. They were fixated on Shuuichi for some reason, with a stare so placid yet so determined that he felt flustered by the mere glance.

 

He was thankful his hat was there to obscure his eyes. Otherwise he might just die on the spot from the sheer embarrassment alone. When he finally got the nerve to speak, the other moved in strange yet methodical ways that it didn’t matter if they explained everything then and there. All that mattered was that they threw a  _ knife  _ at Shuuichi. The blade was more articulate than he gave it credit for, however, because it soared through the air to make contact with Saihara’s hat, knocking it off his head and revealing his full face beneath the cover.

 

Then he felt the wind tousling his hair, and his beloved hat tumbled down the sidewalk from beyond his reach. He gave it a momentary glance, before reverting his attention to the stranger in front of him. The knife they threw clattered to the ground, and Shuuichi thought that would be the end of it.

 

He was sorely wrong. The stranger stepped forward lightly, gracefully,  _ purposefully  _ to graze Shuuichi’s side with the sharp end of another knife. Saihara screamed shortly, before realizing that he had to  _ leave.  _ And upon that realization, he made a break for it in the opposite direction. 

 

Most people would give up the chase when they realized how fast Shuuichi was. Because he was certainly fast, and when his instinct kicked in he could be unstoppable in terms of speed. So surely, the way he was dashing down the sidewalk and weaving between crowds was disheartening enough, such that his pursuer should given up already.

 

But he was wrong again, and every time he glanced over his shoulder, he could still see that person chasing after him. And it didn’t make sense to him, this little mystery that arose without warning, but he had to worry about his theories later. Eventually, he went the only place he knew no ordinary person could follow him. 

 

He went to the rooftops. He didn’t just magically teleport there, but he was quick to ascend a fire escape ladder off the side of one of the apartment complexes. The city was wide and spacious, but the buildings were nestled together closely enough that he could manage jumping from one edge to another. And doing so was such a dangerous, stupid act, there was no way that stranger would continue running after him! Not even Saihara, with his advantages over most other people, would consider persisting after someone in this fashion. Surely, that strange boy who attacked him earlier had thought the same.

 

Yet the boy was  _ so _ strange that he was hot on Shuuichi’s heels, looking exhausted as hell but unafraid to keep going in the same manner. Saihara took this time to yell over his shoulder. “Quit it already! Leave me alone!” 

 

“In your dreams, Saihara! Just give up and it’ll be much easier on you, I promise~” his voice was tantalizing him in every way, making it sound like this was a child’s game and not a dire situation. While that bothered him, Shuuichi decided that the worst part was that this stranger knew his _name_. He knew his name, and obsessively insisted on hunting him, despite not having ever met Shuuichi before! Certainly, Shuuichi would remember someone as unpredictable as _him,_ so why did they insist that wasn’t true? What was going on, here?

 

They kept shouting at each other, until Saihara turned around and saw a dagger flying in his direction. He was half-impressed by the other’s ability to engage in combat even in their game of tag, but half-fearful of the silver weapon in question. It was aimed somewhere vital, so he torqued his body at a certain angle in hopes he could dodge it entirely.

 

It didn’t work exactly the way he wanted it to, and Shuuichi cried out painfully when he felt the silver edge embed itself in his shoulder blade. The blood spattered onto his clothes, then slowly began to leak out further through his dark coat. Mixed in with the dark red hues of blood was a strange  _ pink  _ appearance, one that signified a natural reaction to the  _ poison  _ that was silver—one that showed how his flesh and blood screamed against this weapon with every fiber in his body.

 

_ There was no use in hiding it, was there?  _ Although he wasn’t exactly trying to  _ hide  _ his true nature, after all, because anyone with common sense would tell that he was pulling off inhuman feats this whole time. But still, he preferred to not have himself appear so weak, especially in the eyes of someone that was trying to  _ kill him _ .

 

The pain was too much to handle, though. Even if it was an injury in a minor place like the shoulder, the pain from the silver contact made it feel like he was stabbed in the chest, instead. He felt lightheaded, and nearly collapsed on one of the roofs he was running across. It was impossible to evenly divide his attention between his pursuer and the location in which he was being pursued. Toss in the agony that was pooling in his left shoulder, and Shuuichi was nothing short of miserable.

 

And at some point, his misery morphed into defeat. The other was so pleased by this fact that there was an obvious, near-maniacal glee emanating from his very being. This apparent happiness came off as equal parts playful and malicious. The way the hunter kept talking about having fun, too, undermined the severity of it all. It sickened Shuuichi, but it also confounded him. 

 

Who exactly was he dealing with? Who was this stranger that pinned him down to the ground, and straddled him with little effort? These questions were just a few of many, although any possible answers to them died on arrival as primal fear took a hold of Shuuichi. The knife was held precariously above his neck, and he felt his heart thrum wildly against his chest as a result. After some blithe words, he finally got a name out of this maniac. 

 

“My name is Kokichi Ouma.” The way he said it didn’t sound like a lie so he assumed that for now, he was telling the truth. Then Kokichi went on to rant about how  _ stupid  _ Shuuichi was, and how he should have just shoved him off the buildings when he got the chance to. While that certainly was a possibility, unlike Kokichi, Shuuichi had no intention of hurting him. 

 

The fact that he would assume something like that of him was painful by itself. His shoulder didn’t seem as bad in comparison, now. 

 

They exchanged more words with each other, and somewhere along the lines Shuuichi was able to convince Kokichi that he really had  _ no idea  _ who he was. That revelation must have startled him, because the vibrant expressions that he just wore—the smiles, frowns, grimaces and all—faded away, leaving nothing but an extremely  _ blank  _ expression on Kokichi’s face. It wasn’t the same expression that people had when they were thinking, because even then thoughtfulness had some semblance of emotion. It was utterly blank, lacking any indication of any emotion whatsoever, which was a huge contrast with the highly dramatic rebuttals he had shown up to this point. 

 

The image of Kokichi being a doll was somehow more believable when this happened, and Shuuichi felt more unnerved, if that was possible. 

 

“...Huh? What are you talking about, Saihara?” A clear and even question was asked, despite the madness that settled in the air around them. It was something that gave Shuuichi the tiniest opportunity to tip the scales in his direction, and when his chance came into view, he took it. 

 

He inwardly apologized to both himself and Ouma, but proceeded with his plan anyway. His words, while stuttering with fear, became laced with a sort of  _ power  _ and  _ presence  _ that was subtle but not impossible to detect. It was a blank despair. It was a disparate wish to stay alive. No matter what, there was something strange in those words, and if Shuuichi ever had to explain it to Kokichi in the future, he wouldn’t know how to. 

 

Although he was pretty sure that one of his friends, Himiko Yumeno, would claim that he was “casting a spell” on Kokichi. He doubted it. 

 

“You heard me, Ouma. I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even  _ know  _ you,” Shuuichi admitted this part truthfully, preparing himself for what came ahead. Kokichi’s face wore a look of ignorance this time, so he played off of that. “So what’s going on? Why is this happening…?  **You should explain this to me because I’m really,** **_really_ ** **confused. I-If you’re actually going to kill me like you said, then I want that to be my final wish...”**

 

The words came into existence, and Shuuichi was unsure if they meant anything to Kokichi or not. He could only guess that it affected him in some way, because the confused look that Kokichi wore on his face faded away, having been replaced by a terrifyingly  _ blank  _ expression from before. And like before, it still unnerved Shuuichi in every way possible.

 

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? Killing you was supposed to be easier than this!” He whined, completely displeased at this sudden turn in the game. Shuuichi’s heart dropped again, because he feared that he  _ failed.  _ Did he fail? Was Kokichi seeing through his ruse? Did his plan not work? Oh, how could he mess up at such an opportune moment? He did everything his uncle advised him to do in a situation like this, so why—?

 

“—Okay, so for convenience’s sake, let’s say that I’m seventeen years old right now. I’m really  _ not,  _ but like I said, convenience.”

 

Saihara blinked, and felt a simultaneous rush of worry and relief. He was relieved to see it had  _ worked  _ and that he got Kokichi to delay killing him just now, but he was also worried because Kokichi started off with such an unconventional way to tell a story. Soon enough, however, Saihara drowned in the words that Kokichi involuntarily began throwing out, recounting a tale of terror and struggle in bated breaths. 

 

He didn’t want to hear it anymore. He didn’t want Kokichi to reveal anything more about himself. Those words were so riddled with despair and hope alike, it was painful and dreadful to keep listening on to them the way he was. Shuuichi wanted to scream but he knew any sudden movements might break the illusion. And part of him was naturally curious in hearing this story, even if it was a horrific tale that started and ended with  _ him.  _

 

Except, Shuuichi found that he was completely unfamiliar with these details. Kokichi went on about how it was  _ Shuuichi  _ that killed his parents all those years ago, but he hardly remembered such an outing like that to begin with. And more confusing was the shadow-monster thing that Kokichi talked about, which Shuuichi had absolutely no recollection of. He also didn’t remember meeting a six-year-old Kokichi, or killing said six-year-old’s parents, but Kokichi insisted that was the truth. 

 

To Kokichi, Shuuichi looked like a killer and a liar. He really, really believed that Shuuichi killed or helped to kill his parents—he really thought that was what happened. But Shuuichi was equally sure that that could  _ never  _ have happened. He believed that violence and killing were  _ wrong.  _ He devoted his life to unravelling the crimes of killers and liars, so why would he align himself with their cause? Not once in his childhood, could he remember such an offbeat tale, even though a witness was here in front of him insisting that he was a major character in such a story. 

 

It made his head spin, and he realized that he had to  _ remove that damned blade  _ before it was too late. And seeing that Kokichi was caught up in the fever-pitch of his anecdote, he had to be stopped if Shuuichi had any chance of escaping. 

 

“Stop it!” He cried out to him, sounding desperate. Then he remembered their roles, and remembered that in this particular point in time, he actually had the upper hand over Kokichi. He carefully looked up at his violet eyes, and remained staring into them as he spoke. “Kokichi, you have to—no, you can  _ stop now. _ ” 

 

They were like magic, because Kokichi stopped incessantly asking questions and throwing words around, and he paused in understanding this. There was a momentary break in his mind where he tried to comprehend why on  _ earth  _ he would indulge his enemy with his story, or why he didn’t just kill Shuuichi as he lay there. 

 

And that break was exactly what Shuuichi needed, because he broke free from Kokichi’s grasp while he was distracted. He wriggled free from his hold, and stumbled over to the ledge of the rooftop where other buildings lied in wait for him. Of course, he could easily leap over to any one of those, but in doing so he would only prolong this tiresome chase further—which was the  _ opposite  _ of what he wanted. 

 

As such, he took the only escape route possible, and he tumbled off the edge of the railing. It was so easy to fall and drop, he shuddered to think that people had done what he just did, except they weren’t being chased around and they simply made the decision themselves. 

 

But he wasn’t like those people. He could recover from this fall easily, and in doing so he would finally outrun Kokichi. Besides, Kokichi needed to be alive in order to kill, right? So it was highly unlikely that he would follow Shuuichi, even off the edge of a building. 

 

Yet he continued to surprise him, because within seconds Shuuichi could see Kokichi’s face just feet above from him. He was free-falling, too, hair fanning out and eyes threatening to spill over with frustrated tears. Of course, his voice failed him, but he didn’t use this as an excuse to stay quiet. 

 

“You’re really...difficult…” Saihara said hesitantly. “Why did you follow me?”

 

“Because I’m  _ not done  _ playing with you! I won’t let you leave me!” Ouma answered desperately, and he was such a miserable sight that Saihara wished for nothing more than to look away. 

 

Of course, it wasn’t that easy. And in all actuality, Shuuichi knew that he couldn’t just let Kokichi  _ die  _ like this. Even if Ouma obviously wanted him dead, and even if he would continue chasing him again, it was better than knowing he would become an insignificant splatter on the ground without his help. So, he reached his arms forward, and pulled Kokichi’s half-conscious body closer to him. He couldn’t save him if he wasn’t close enough, after all. 

 

“I’ve got to take care of you now, don’t I? S-so, sorry about this, Ouma, but I’ve got things from here on out…” They were genuine words, although his voice was so shaky and hesitant that it could have sounded like he was lying. To this, Ouma gave no indication of acceptance or refusal, and the only way that Saihara could tell if he was there or not was by the tiny gasps of air that left his mouth in response. 

 

Holding him this closely, however, showed Saihara one thing. Ouma was  _ real,  _ and he was exactly the way he appeared to be. His frame was just as thin and small as it looked, and he was as light as a feather. In fact, it would have been easy to throw him through a window right now, although he weighed so little that he would have ricocheted off the window instead of go through it. No doubt he only weighed a hundred pounds when soaking wet. These were all statements of fact that piled up onto each other, and Saihara didn’t feel better knowing any of this. 

 

It reminded him that Kokichi was just a  _ kid.  _ Either he was younger than Saihara or he was the same age, but it was impossible that he was as old as he pretended (or didn’t pretend) to be. He had so much to live for, and yet his only goal as of late appeared to be killing vampires. 

 

Or, killing one  _ specific _ vampire.

 

The same vampire that closed his eyes, and let the shadows of his being and mind take over. The same vampire that didn’t deny his true nature, but didn’t adhere to the monstrosities that his kind was known for doing, either. The same vampire that engaged in a dangerous chase with a  _ hunter  _ of all people, not retaliating in a violent way despite the lethality of the situation.

 

He was the specific vampire that Kokichi had been looking for, even though he  _ swore  _ that he never met him before, and he never did such a thing to Ouma’s parents to begin with. But if that were the case, then why did Kokichi obsessively chase after him like this? And why was Shuuichi unable to fully confirm or deny the story? There were so many questions to ask, but he would never get his answers if he let Kokichi die here. 

 

So those shadows wrapped around him slowly and gently, like wrapping paper covering up a present. And they swallowed Ouma, too, engulfing his thin frame in ribbon-like tendrils of darkness, before he was completely submerged in their protective veil. These inky amalgamations devoured the duo in their embrace, and swiftly blinked them out of existence where they were. 

 

No longer were two adolescent boys falling off the roof of a skyscraper. No longer were a vampire and hunter engaged in deadly confrontation, yet clinging to each other for dear life. No longer were hope and despair intermingling into one lukewarm, unknown identity. 

 

No longer were any of these things happening. And the only evidence that anything had even happened  _ at all  _ came in the form of a red button, which fell loose from a certain white shirt and tumbled down onto the sidewalk below. From there, it bounced off the curb, and sunk deep into the darkness of a sewer. 

 

Just like the owner of the jacket to which the button belonged, the colors all faded into black, and life continued on unknowingly for the citizens of the city. 

.

.

 

“I’m still not sure why you bothered saving him, Shuuichi. If you ask me, people like him are better off dead.” His uncle made a point of cruelty by banging his hand on the desk, but they both knew this to be a bluff and nothing more. 

 

“I couldn’t just let him die, Uncle,” he insisted, sighing as he turned his eyes away from the man. “No one deserves to die like that...not even ‘people like him’.” He gestured air quotes with his fingers, hoping that the sentiment was enough to sting his uncle where it mattered. It seemed to work, because the older man became more sympathetic in a heartbeat.

 

“Hey, hey, no need to turn my words around on me! I know what you mean. You’ve always been a good kid, Shuuichi. I know that.” 

 

“Thank you. Anyway, you don’t have to stay here with me, you know. I’ll take care of Ouma.” He glanced at the boy in question, who remained unconscious—and unscathed—in the clean, white bed. “He’s not...going anywhere, you know? So…”

 

“If you say so. I’ll trust that you can take care of things by yourself, Shuuichi. Until then, what do you want me to say to Momota and Harukawa?” A kind smile laced the man’s face. “They stopped by while you were gone, so I just told them you were out.”

 

A thoughtful pause on Shuuichi’s end, but then he answered. “Just tell them I haven’t returned yet. I still have to deal with Ouma, so I don’t want there to be conflict…”

 

He agreed to this, and exited the room where the two boys were left to their own devices. Well, only one of the boys was conscious to even use said devices, whilst the other remained asleep on the bed. But the point was that they were alone now, and in the silence of their company Shuuichi could think over everything that happened so far.

 

None of it was making total sense, and he knew that in order for him to put all the pieces together, he had to do some investigating on his end. But with Kokichi in the state he was in, there was no way to leave and do some digging around. So he settled for mental preparations in what would be a somewhat-frightening-but-mostly-curious interrogation, one that would coax the truth out of Kokichi. 

 

(Was such a thing possible? The other seemed so playful and so dishonest that he might not come clean, even when it was in his best interest to do so. Shuuichi bit his lip.) 

 

This would take place once Ouma woke up, and after Saihara explained things  _ slowly  _ and  _ carefully,  _ so as not to incite combat once again. Because he wasn’t sure about how his uncle would feel if a fight broke out in the detective agency, or if he came back to the room to find a dead Saihara, dead Ouma, or dead both of them. Luckily he didn’t have to worry about this  _ too  _ hard, because at some point he had already removed any dangerous items on Ouma’s person.

 

He didn’t have any of his knives since he used them up before, but there were still minute weapons, like tiny blades in a hidden shoe compartment, a sharp hair pin hiding in his scarf, or his cell phone that somehow remained intact despite all the running and jumping he did. All of these items were taken away from him, and placed out of sight until Saihara could make sure that the situation was in  _ his  _ control, and that Ouma wouldn’t go blindly attacking him or anyone else he had his sights set on.

 

Despite all the worrying, everything was ready for action. The plan was set into place, and the only thing that was left was for Kokichi to wake up. But Shuuichi didn’t rush this process along, he knew what it felt like to be so  _ tired  _ after a day’s work, or how exhausting it felt when nothing went the way it was supposed to. No, Kokichi could take his time recovering from the shock and fatigue of it all, and when he woke up naturally was when everything could start again.

 

Until then, Shuuichi remained at the bedside, knees drawn inward as he curled up on the large armchair. He held himself together with hesitant hands, and rested himself as he laid back into the cushion. His eyes were transfixed on the boy in front of him, and he watched the slow rise-and-fall of Kokichi’s chest. 

 

_ I should have brought aspirin,  _ he suddenly thought to himself, as his mind wandered to the preparations made.  _ I have a feeling that he’s gonna give me a headache, whether he means to or not… _

  
  
  
  



	5. but the slightest movement suddenly seemed too noisy in his mind

Kokichi prepared for what he would see. After all, once the dream wore off, he would be face-to-face with God, Satan, the universe, etc. Whichever one wanted to deal with him in death, it didn’t matter. But he wanted to be ready in any case, because the last thing he wanted was to appear naive or unprepared in the presence of powerful entities.

 

In the case of God or “benevolent” deities, Kokichi supposed he had a good word or two of disappointment to give them first. He would scold them, complain to them, and ask them why they let the world suffer so immeasurably if they were supposed to guard and protect all living creatures at all times. He would also denounce their human followers, saying some of them were too overzealous while others were completely apathetic. Then after that, he would seriously doubt their judgement, because a person like him certainly didn’t seem like the “live in peaceful heaven for the rest of your after-days” type of guy.

 

In the case of Satan or other seemingly “malevolent” deities, Kokichi would be unsurprised. He would accept his fate, but still ask the same questions to any other person he wanted to. He wouldn’t let the hellscapes intimidate him for the rest of his days. And concerning his role in such a place, he would defer back to his experience on earth, and say how good he was at managing other people and that he had way too much potential to be a simple grunt in Team Hell. If he was going to suffer, he wanted to be a VIP in that place of eternal agony.

 

In neither case—in the event that maybe Kokichi found his soul floating in the endless universe or standing before a one-eyed shadow of judgement—then he would take it slow. There was no need to offhandedly joke towards someone (or _something_ ) that he had no idea how to handle in the first place. Beyond the initial shock and caution, he would ask if the universe really _was_ infinite, and if it was, who else was out there and what else could he do now that he was dead, and whatnot.

 

But no matter what happened, Kokichi readied himself. Because the dream where Shuichi’s eyes poured liquid introspection and curiosity into his soul would inevitably end, and once it did he would be stuck with whatever consequence followed a human’s death. And in the midst of this preparation, he asked himself if vampires would go to the same places as humans, or if there was a separate afterlife for them or not. This was because of his concern with running into others. What if he encountered old friends, his parents, or other vampires that he got mixed up with in the past? How would he explain to them everything up to that point, if at all? The thought of it alone gave him shivers.

 

Eventually, after what must have been a century in the real world, Kokichi’s dream ended.

 

And he woke up.

 

.

.

 

The first thing he saw was the ceiling and a bit of the connecting wall facing opposite of him. Both things were smooth, dark-colored, and strange to look at. He blinked once, twice—then rubbed at his eyes which had the remnants of sleep all around them. Then he stopped and listened well for the sounds he was making. Undoubtedly, that was the sound of him _breathing_ (did he need oxygen in the afterlife anymore?) and the sound of soft sheets _moving_ (did everyone wake up in a bed when they were dead or was it just him?). And the more he rubbed his eyes, the louder the noises got.

 

Then there was the sense of smell. Usually he would notice fragrances first before other things, but he supposed that sensory understanding went a bit differently when someone died. He detected the distinct smell of burning incense, along with the unmistakable aroma of old books and tea. His head screamed out words like _library, office, archives room,_ before he got confused at his own internal findings. Although Kokichi was smart and clever—and although he spent lots of times obsessively writing in journals, making blueprints, or reading manga—he wasn’t one to hole up in public places like those. In fact, he often preferred his own private study room or the like, so he could clutter things to his heart’s desire and his mind’s organization. The fact that he was reanimated into some studious place like this irked him.

 

It all did, really.

 

And his sense of touch came last in this train of comprehension. He felt the soft sheets that he heard from earlier, and pinched the fabric between his fingers. It was nice in a comforting way, and he sighed out. He could also feel the sensation of his clothes on his body, and they were the same from before with no alterations done to them. (A complete relief that was, because part of him amused the idea that people woke up in hospital gowns when they died.)

 

His eyes flickered around to appeal to visual understanding more. This was definitely someone’s bedroom or office, because the walls next to him were completely blocked by bookshelves and cork boards with a multitude of papers pinned up to them. Together with the large desk, side table, and lamp, it looked as if the room was about to burst open from the seams with the added presence of the bed—a bed that stood out from the rest of the furniture there, because it was so plain and undecorated and _mobile._

 

A shift here and there showed that the bed was actually on wheels, and Kokichi had to scoot backward to fix the position of the bed itself. _That means that they don’t usually have a bed here,_ he thought, _and that’s weird. Where are they supposed to sleep when I’m not around?_

 

Even weirder was that he couldn’t find his phone, and although he had little hopes for his earthly possessions following him into the afterlife in the first place, he was still disappointed by the revelation itself. His lips threatened to dip into a frown, and he resisted the urge to appear so obviously displeased.

 

Surely the receptionists of the afterlife were watching him now. They were probably judging his movements and behavior so they could report to some being higher up, and he didn’t want to give them an easy time at all. But he also didn’t want to come across as some easily disappointed brat, so he just sat up on the bed, and thought carefully about the situation he was in.

 

That’s when he saw the thing that shattered his current understanding of the situation. As Ouma sat up straight, his eyes wandered over to the small side table nearby. It was scattered with papers and books, so he didn’t think too much of it at first. But another once-over of the table revealed a very telling, very _distinct_ piece of clothing lying on top.

 

If a hat could be a called a piece of clothing, anyway. It was mostly black, with white stripes on the back and a tiny star affixed on the side. It wasn’t the first time Kokichi had seen that particular style, either. And although it was only for a moment or two and although he hated it in its entirety, Kokichi remembered that exact same hat mere hours ago, sitting on the head of the person he had a grudge against his whole life up to now. He could picture that dark black-blue hair peeking from the sides, and those golden eyes gleaming out from underneath the brim to stare him down entirely.

 

His heart sank.

 

His eyes wandered.

 

He realized that this wasn’t Heaven, Hell, the universe, or anything else like that. Oh no, this was _much_ worse.

 

He found nothing else of importance inside the room, not even the owner of the hat that lay beside him. Kokichi supposed that was a good thing, because it meant he could escape at once without worrying about interference. Or, if there _was_ interference, he had a chance of breaking free without conflict. Even if it meant temporarily abandoning his lifelong goal and desire to kill Shuuichi, it would be worth it if he could regroup and bounce back twice as hard as ever.

 

With that resolve, Kokichi moved as quietly as he could. He swung his legs over the bed, feeling a slight fuzzy sensation throughout his limbs as he did so. At the very least, his head wasn’t swimming, so he could see ahead of him clearly. There was a hesitance in his bones, though, and a great urge for them to _crack_ and relieve themselves of the pressure that was weighing down on them.

 

But the slightest movement suddenly seemed too noisy in his mind. The shifting of the bed sheets, the near-stillness of his breath—all of which sounded too loudly and too noticeably for his liking. Kokichi swallowed the anxiety building up in his throat, and willed his body to keep moving as he rose from the bed in its entirety.

 

The bed frame creaked, and Kokichi did his best to ignore it as he stepped forward. He blankly stared at the door, and gently placed his hand on the knob. He turned it with a nicely delicate touch, and slowly pushed forward.

 

He found himself in a hallway, with one direction leading to more doors, and the other going out towards an open space. He headed left to the open space, and found himself in what must have been the lobby of the detective agency. Worn out couches lined the walls, with fake plants tucked in the corner and a sleek coffee table situated in the middle of it all—that which was entirely covered with magazines. There was a counter up front, and another corkboard with multiple flyers attached to it. Those were presumably missing persons posters and advertisements from partnering businesses.

 

The only thing that the detective agency lacked were the actual detectives. Shuuichi was nowhere to be found, and neither was the man from earlier in the day (or was it yesterday? Kokichi shivered at the thought of being unconscious in this place any longer than a few hours.) that called out to Shuuichi when he dashed out of the building during the chase. Not even _clients_ were here, and to that Kokichi wondered how well this agency held up when it could afford to be so unattended to like this.

 

It didn’t matter, though. The only thing that mattered was that Kokichi was _free_ now, and there was nothing stopping him from crashing through the doors and escaping into the outside world. He wrangled free from his captor’s hold, and within seconds he could become another blob in the ever-moving crowd in the streets. He could become a shadow, and disappear without a trace of having been there in the first place.

 

_(He could leave just like Shuuichi left him, back on that fateful day. He could leave and never come back.)_

 

Ouma’s hands reached for the exit door quicker than he wanted them to. The itchy feeling of _liberation_ fueled him, and he moved with such impulsiveness that he didn’t even have time to scold himself for it. Without truly understanding anything, the door had flung open with little resistance, and a loud gasp chorused on either side of the walkway.

 

For a short moment in time, violet skies collided with blood-red dawns and magenta sunsets. They met in one cacophonous, discordant, unlovable meeting, such that they bled out warm trickles of color and _feeling_ from the mere glances they shared. When it felt unbearable, neither color broke contact at all, and instead the three similar shades faded and melted into each other, like crayon wax under candlelight or ice cream under sunlight.

 

They stared.

 

Then, three different voices shouted over each other at once. Somehow, they all managed to yell the same word into the air, at the exact same time during which their thoughts and voices overlapped one another.

 

“ _What?”_

 

.

.

 

“Ouma?” Magenta sunsets came and went as eyelid-shadows hid them from the world with ever-changing blinks. When they stayed stagnant, the owner of such eyes spoke out with reluctance. “Ouma, what the hell are _you_ doing here?”

 

“You’d better explain yourself, Ouma.” Bloody red dawns seemed sharper than usual, once the initial shock of realization went away. A few times did the color disappear behind light eyelids, and a few times did the owner of such eyes fall and sputter themselves into silence. “You shouldn’t be here.”

 

“Momota? Harukawa?” Violet skies darkened into a deep shade of confusion, but remained visible for all to see as the eyelids refused to close down even _once._ The skies reflected the owner’s state of mind, and he tried his best to clear the clouds in his brain. “Why are you—”

 

“—We asked you first, man!” Kaito barked, the sound of which grated against Kokichi’s ears. At the very least, the loudness and pertinence of his voice helped bring him back to reality. “Since when do you stay at Shuuichi’s place, huh?”

 

“Since when are you guys friends with _Shuuichi?”_ he posed a question back at them, but found his answer when he slid his gaze over to meet Maki’s. While full of resentment still, she seemed utterly dismayed and worried. That singular look in her eyes was enough to clue him in on the information he needed.

 

_Oh, I see now! I see that you were lying to me all this time, Maki Roll!_

 

“Wow, you guys really _are_ friends, aren’t you? And when you told me that you barely knew who Saihara was back then at the party, that was a _lie,_ wasn’t it? Of course, I doubted you and your motives from the start. You _almost_ got away with it, Maki! Impressive!” He smiled at her, and goaded himself into jubilee despite the awkward situation he landed himself in.

 

Maki was not amused in the least. “Ouma, you—”

 

“—What’s he talkin’ about, Maki Roll?” Kaito asked, completely lost from the conversation and the situation itself. He glanced between them with a curious gaze. “You told him about Shuuichi? How come?”

 

“That’s…”

 

“It’s not important now,” Kokichi assured them. “If anything, I’ll just do us all a favor and be going on my way. Since I’m really nice and stuff, I’ll also let you know that I didn’t see Shuuichi inside there, so if you’re looking for him then you’re out of luck!” He smiled widely, eyes set agleam with a mischievous light. “Of course, your luck ran out the moment we met each other, right?”

 

Maki’s eyes became fully laced with that resentment again, and her worries were momentarily abandoned. She took a defensive step forward, hands rested at her side but obviously wanting to do more than remain still. He glanced at the way her fingers viciously twitched, and it was as if those hands wanted nothing more than to grab his neck and wring it around multiple times.

 

 _Maybe that’s exactly what she wants,_ he thought. _Is she actually a vampire, after all this time?_

 

“Just stay away from here,” Maki said. “You said you were leaving, right? Then leave already. Don’t get us involved in whatever mess you surely made.”

 

“Seriously!” Kaito yelled, interrupting any thought that Kokichi had. “Seriously, what the fuck is going on here? Why do you two know each other? How come you’re at Shuuichi’s place? I didn’t take you to be someone that needed his detective skills, so something’s up, right?” There was an unabated silence at his words, and Kaito took that as consent to keep talking. “What kinda trouble have you been stirring up, Ouma? And how come you and Maki won’t tell me? Does it have to do with Shuuichi?”

 

Kokichi didn’t have answers to those questions. However, he knew the longer that he stayed there humoring them, the harder it would be to make his escape. While Shuuichi was definitely out of reach for now, it wouldn’t take long for him to return to his workplace, and Kokichi did _not_ want to be there when that happened. He kept quiet for once, and worked up the courage to leave as quickly as he could.

 

Within seconds, he dodged assailing shouts and questions from the other two, all while melting into the nondescript crowd that trudged along the streets. At some point, he felt his scarf get tugged off his neck from Kaito’s harsh touch, but he didn’t care for his clothes at the moment. Kaito could have torn off his shirt and pants, too, and Kokichi would stomach the public humiliation if it meant escaping on his own terms.

 

He didn’t look back when Maki screamed at him, either, or when multiple heads turned in his direction to watch his fleeting figure. But none of it mattered to him at the moment. Not the scarf, not the people, not even the _vampires_ that surely littered the streets without knowing that a prime hunter was in their vicinity.

 

Definitely not _the_ vampire, he who was strangely nowhere to be seen despite being searched out by at least two other people. No, Shuuichi Saihara had given Kokichi Ouma the slip, and more importantly he indirectly caused Kaito Momota and Maki Harukawa to get involved in his mess, too. That mess already entangled so many people now, if every member of D.I.C.E could be counted in that situation.

 

(They could, because they wouldn’t even _be_ members of D.I.C.E if Shuuichi hadn’t interfered all those years ago. His presence affected more people than he could ever hope to know.)

 

Everything was coming together in the web of Kokichi’s mind, but he didn’t like the connections and strings that ran between it all. He didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t see the end of the network, and that he was forced to look down at endless directions of even more infinite possibilities. Each idea branched off into countless others, and all of those thoughts were ensnared in the same white lines that did nothing more than give Kokichi a headache.

 

A nauseating feeling drummed inside his head, and for a split second he considered cracking it open on the sidewalk—letting the complexities leak out for all the world to see.

 

But that consideration faded when he became aware of his thoughts. So he bit down hard on his tongue to prevent himself from screaming, and covered his ears harshly to drown out all the _noise_ that erupted around him.

 

Today could have definitely, _definitely_ gone better. Maybe he should have answered their questions, even though the answers were still vague in his mind. Maybe he should head back while he still had the chance. Maybe he should have stuck around for Shuuichi to come back, after all.

 

Maybe.


	6. he unwillingly drowned out the static in his mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I don't know if the tags will make this obvious or not, but just assume that Shuuichi is friends with the usual group (Maki, Kaito, Kaede, and Himiko of course). It'll explain his actions towards Himiko in this chapter!

Shuuichi Saihara wished he had put his foot down. He wished he had defied them with all his might, or that he had half the backbone that he dreamed of having in a situation like this.

 

He might have been able to stay longer at the detective agency, otherwise.

 

As Kokichi took his time to wake up, Shuuichi wandered back into the main lobby for a bit, only meaning to collect some papers and move back into the room that Kokichi was settled into. He didn’t want to deal with his uncle, his friends, or any of his clientele at the moment. He really didn’t want to be distracted, because the last thing he needed was for Kokichi to escape in the moments that he wasn’t there.

 

(Part of him knew that keeping him here against his will was cruel. But the other part stung with so much _curiosity_ that he knew there would be no other alternative to this strange scenario.)

 

Yet just as he was about to return to the room, the front door of the agency had opened wide, and a familiar figure walked in. The flash of red and glimpse of black was all it took for Shuuichi to understand who it was, but he didn’t feel any better when he did so. In fact, he felt his chest tighten up at the sight of her. The sight of the one, the only—

 

“—Himiko Yumeno!” she cried out, nearly in tandem with his thoughts. “The One, The Only, The Red-Rose Mage, Himiko Yumeno has arrived!” Arms thrown into the air, and her face fell into a placated smile. She seemed so pleased with herself until she realized her reason for appearing there, and when that realization came her eyes widened and her arms flailed out of shock.

 

“Wait, nevermind that, Shuuichi! This is important!”

 

“I’m so sorry, Himiko, but I’m r-really busy right now. So I’ll have to help you later—”

 

“—No, I need your help _now!_ ” Himiko reached forward, and stood on her tiptoes so she could be more clearly seen across the high counter. Her rose-like eyes wilted at once. “I-I know how busy you are, Shuuichi, but I wouldn’t come here for just anything. Even if my magic is so strong that it solves most things, there are some things that are even out of _my_ capabilities…”

 

Shuuichi gulped, and glanced back at the door that lead to the room Kokichi was sleeping in. He hadn’t shown signs of waking up earlier, but what if he woke up now? How would he explain the situation to either Himiko or Kokichi?

 

The short answer was that he _couldn’t,_ even if he somehow got both of them to sit down in the leather couches in a civil manner, and discussed everything over tea and coffee. Hell, even if he constructed a fairly detailed powerpoint to show the two of them, it wouldn’t do them any justice.

 

He looked back at Himiko and stuttered. “W-Well, what is it? I don’t have a lot of time, y’see…”

“It’s Tenko!” she cried out. He wanted to shush her for being so loud, but she kept speaking regardless of him. “I need your help! I can’t find Tenko!”

 

He stared for a good moment or so, utterly in disbelief. “Then why don’t you just _text_ her? Why are you asking me to help find her if you can just—”

 

“—Don’t be stupid, Shuuichi!” she groaned, and slammed a palm against her forehead out of exasperation. “I’m beyond text messages. I cast a homing spell on Tenko long ago, because I promised to always keep an eye on her like she always keeps an eye on me.” At the recollection of such a thought, Himiko’s cheeks brightened with a shade of red not too different from her hair.

 

Shuuichi didn’t tease her this time, and Himiko took that as a sign to keep talking. “And w-well, if I could just text her and know where she is, then this situation would be magically solved. But she hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts, and my spell hasn’t found her yet, either.”

 

“So what does that mean, exactly? You don’t think she’s in danger, do you?”

 

“That’s exactly what I think!” she yelled, then looked apologetic for doing so as the sudden interjection caught Shuuichi off guard. He jumped nervously and she muttered out a quick “Sorry!” afterward.

 

Then she spoke again. “The only way that the homing spell doesn’t work is if something _really bad_ happened to either me or Tenko. O-Or if Tenko decides she doesn’t _want_ to be tracked, then I can’t find her if she mentally blocks me out! But she’s never done that before, so I don’t understand why I suddenly can’t find her now!”

 

The enthusiasm that she guided herself with died out all too easily, and a deeply melancholic expression took hold of her in its stead. Her lips quivered, and her voice reduced itself to mere whispers. “I’m scared, Shuuichi.”

 

He felt guilty for wanting to dismiss Himiko so easily. She was a good friend of his—although they _might_ have gotten off to the wrong foot when they first met each other, but that’s water under the bridge now—and usually pulled through for him. And if someone like her couldn’t find something that she wanted (not to mention her own _girlfriend_ , Tenko Chabashira!) then it had to be because of things outside of her control. There weren’t many times that people like Himiko could not have control of a situation, so this was a strange case, indeed.

 

Shuuichi’s eyes fluttered back to Kokichi’s room for another moment, and he thought carefully about what to do next. When Himiko’s breaths shortened and became close to whimpers, he knew that was all it took for him to give in to her completely.

 

He sighed at this revelation, but accepted his fate all the same. “Okay, Himiko. I’ll help you, a-alright? So don’t look so sad anymore.”

 

She didn’t immediately become jubilant at this new decision, but she appreciated it nevertheless. When Shuuichi emerged from behind the counter, she ran up to him in full speed and hugged him with all the strength she could muster. Then Himiko buried her face in his chest, and he hesitated before reaching out to pet her head softly.

 

She smiled. “Thank you, Shuuichi. I really mean it.”

 

“Of course. I’m sorry that I seemed so... _dismissive_ just now.” He gently let go of her, and took a step back when the embrace ended. “There’s been a lot of things happening here, recently...”

 

“That’s fine,” she insisted. “I really appreciate the help, though. As a reward, I’ll cast a spell on you that will bring you good luck and fortune.” Her eyes twinkled at this possibility, and Himiko let this amazement linger as she lead Shuuichi out the door. “It’s a high-level spell, so it’s guaranteed to work! Also, when did you lose the hat?”

 

Shuuichi blinked, and brought a hand up to where the accessory would normally be sitting smugly on his head. He remembered how Kokichi had disarmed him earlier, the first knife of many being used as a lever to throw his hat to the wind. While he had a spare one in the room that Kokichi was sleeping in, for some reason he wasn’t entirely compelled to wear it.

 

He shrugged. “I guess it was just...getting in the way…”

 

“Oh, Kaede will be _so happy_ when she sees that you finally ditched the hat.” Himiko giggled, and picked at the ribbon that was nestled in her hair. “She’ll probably be mad, though, since she’s been convincing you for years to take it off…”

 

“I know, right?” Shuuichi amused her as they walked, mind never straying too far from the image of Kokichi, lying in his bed. He hid it all from her with careful words. “I’ll apologize to her when I see her. B-But, right now we should worry about Chabashira, huh?”

 

“Mmm!” Himiko agreed. “It shouldn’t take too long if you help me. And then you can go back to whatever it was you were doing.”

 

Shuuichi glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Kokichi running after him for some reason. Whether he would be smiling fakely at him, or grimacing angrily as he waved a silver dagger around in the air…

 

He shuddered at the thought, and returned his attention to the girl in front of him.

 

“I hope so, Himiko. I really hope so.”

 

.

.

 

The search didn’t take longer than an hour or so. Himiko’s “homing spell”, as she called it, started working better when Shuuichi lent her a bit of his power. And with their forces combined, there was nowhere in the _country—_ let alone the _city—_ that Tenko could hide. Not that she would be hiding from her own lover to begin with, but the fact that she couldn’t be found in a conventional matter said something about her circumstances.

 

When they _did_ find her, it wasn’t in the way they expected. The two of them arrived at one of the aikido dojos that Tenko was known for frequenting, only to come across one of the mentors there who had a worried look on her face. She motioned for the two of them to come inside, and when they did they found something strange, indeed.

 

The tatami mats were new and fresh, and various students in fighting robes were loitered about in the room. _It must be their break,_ Shuuichi thought. _So even aikido students need breaks, huh? Not that Tenko ever seemed to tire out…_

 

Just as he thought that, though, he and Himiko came across the reason for Tenko’s disappearance. When it came to the homing spell (“Please stop calling it a spell,” Shuuichi once said to her. “We aren’t sorcerers or anything, Himiko…” to which she promptly ignored, because calling their abilities as spells was way more accurate than whatever it was they were called!) cast on Chabashira, it wouldn’t work if she or Himiko were vastly injured somehow, or if Chabashira mentally blocked Himiko out, _or_ if Chabashira somehow ended up incapacitated.

 

It was the very last option that appeared before their eyes. Tenko Chabashira was collapsed on a nearby bedroll, with a cloth to her forehead and a scowl on her face. Her eyes were shut closed, however, and her skin was flushed as if she just finished fighting a few rounds.

 

“That’s exactly it,” the instructor had said when Shuuichi asked. “During one of the practice fights, Tenko suddenly keeled over. We couldn’t unlock her phone, and we didn’t want to dial the police, so we were hoping that someone would come and get her.” They smiled at the sight of Himiko, who was nearly sobbing at Tenko’s bedside. “Lucky for us, Chabashira has a very caring girlfriend.”

 

“Oh, Tenko!” Himiko wailed, and buried her face in the other girl’s side. “You got hurt, didn’t you? You’re sick, aren’t you? I-I’m a failure of a mage for not noticing…”

 

Shuuichi comforted her, and stayed by her side until Tenko stirred. When she did, her eyes were less like the spring and more like summer—hazy, dull, and subdued. She seemed a bit dizzy, too, and teetered slightly when she rose up from her spot in bed. She blinked once, twice, then groaned to herself as she realized the situation.

 

“I can’t believe I fainted…”

 

“Oh, I’m just happy you’re okay!” Himiko jumped forward, and wrapped her arms around Tenko’s neck. Shuuichi could tell she was crying, even though her voice remained somewhat calm. “What happened? Are you sick? Did you get hurt? Did you get cursed?”

 

Tenko chuckled, and gently pat Himiko’s hand as a signal for her to let go. Slowly, the smaller girl released her, staring up at her with an inquisitive look. “I was just training when I felt bad all of a sudden,” Tenko said. “But just seeing you here makes me feel better already! It must be your magic, Himiko!”

 

Shuuichi understood at once. So did Himiko, and both of them exchanged worried glances at each other before nodding. Then the detective turned around, and smiled at the aikido instructor sheepishly.

 

“S-Sorry for causing such a scene...is it okay if we take Tenko home now, though? I think it would be better if she rested…”

 

“Of course!” the instructor agreed, and Shuuichi was so grateful that he didn’t have to coerce them into the matter. “It’ll be fine. The key to mastering aikido is maintaining a healthy body, after all. There’s no need to push her further.”

 

“Thank you very much,” he said politely, bowing to her out of respect but also out of fear that saying the wrong thing may set her off, somehow. She paid him little mind, and waved the trio goodbye as they got up to their feet.

 

With that matter settled, Shuuichi helped Himiko carry Tenko out of the dojo. She insisted that she could walk, though, and kept up an even pace with the other two. When they were out of earshot of the dojo and other people in general, Tenko voiced her worries.

 

“Thank you two for coming for me,” she muttered. “Even if it’s just _you,_ Saihara.” her green eyes were like acid burning into him. Their sudden, sharp look made him feel nervous, and his stomach tied itself into knots at the sight of it.

 

He faltered. “W-Well, H-Himiko couldn’t find you on her own, so I had to help…”

 

“But Himiko!” Tenko yelled out. “Y-Your magic is always with me, right? So why did you need the help of a weak menace like him?”

 

“You fainted, so the magic didn’t work.” Himiko pointed this out like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She huffed cutely, averting her eyes to the side in a flustered manner. “B-But...it’s still all my fault, anyway.”

 

“How is this your fault? It’s me who needs to step up in aikido,” Tenko admitted. “If I wasn’t so weak, I wouldn’t have fainted in the first place.”

 

“It’s not that!” Himiko insisted. “No, it’s not that at all! The reason why you fainted doesn’t have to do with that. It’s because I haven’t been taking care of you, Tenko. A-As a vampire should take care of their human, I mean.” Her face turned completely red now, and when she dragged a tooth over her lips in worry, the sharp fang looked as if it might draw blood at any moment. It remained dry, however, if not for the salivating worry that pooled in Himiko’s mouth, instead.

 

“You’re bonded to me, aren’t you?”

 

“Of course,” Tenko said. “I love you no matter what, regardless of your origin. I promised that I would always be with you, remember? And when you said you would let me be by your side for all of time, well that’s…” Her face flushed with embarrassment and love altogether, and her eyes lost their acid and became the spring again. She held that warmth close to her, and stared down lovingly at her girlfriend.

 

She reiterated herself, as well. “Well, I know the bond between you and I. So don’t worry about _that._ ”

 

“Okay,” Himiko said. “That’s the problem, though. You fainted because I’ve been a bad mage. And a bad vampire.” Her fangs continued to graze over her lips as she bit down on them, looking away from Tenko and into the distance with a hardened stare. “Since we’re bonded, it’s not just me that needs to drink blood, y’know? You have to do _that_ thing again.”

 

“Oh, I see what you mean now. W-Well, don’t worry! I didn’t go into this relationship without knowing about the...the _strange_ things that happen along the way.” she hesitated in her step, a newfound embarrassment and worry taking control of her. “A-And is it weird that when I had your blood for the first time, it tasted nothing like blood? It sort of tasted like the smoothies I make in the morning.”

 

“T-That’s because, well, that’s because when you’re bonded, blood doesn’t taste the same way! It tastes like all your favorite things in the world, a-and…!” Himiko squeaked, and it was at this point that Shuuichi realized that he was getting increasingly awkward in their presence. Or more like, his presence was becoming the thing that was making them increasingly awkward.

 

He sighed.

 

“Y’know, Chabashira and Himiko,” Shuuichi addressed them carefully, pausing in his step to look at both of them in the eye. “This would all be avoided if you had, well…”

 

“...Let Himiko turn me into a vampire?” Tenko finished the sentence, the acid in her eyes starting to well up again. “Yeah, I don’t think so. It would be so easy to do that, right? But that’s not how a maiden’s heart works at all! Although a dummy boy like _you_ wouldn’t know that!”

 

“I-It’s complicated, Shuuichi,” Himiko offered a kinder explanation to him, although she was no less accusatory in her stare. “Himiko loves Tenko and Tenko loves Himiko. Regardless of vampirism, magic, or whatever...so we don’t need to both be the same thing just to prove we’re together.” Her hands tightened around Tenko’s, and in their kind embrace they could do nothing but smile.

 

He smiled back at them with as much fake jubilee as he could muster. He unwillingly drowned out the static in his mind; the kind of static that garbled negative noise and white madness into his head. The kind that told him he would never find someone the way that Himiko and Tenko found each other—the kind that reminded him that he was a _monster_ in most ways, and that there were less people willing to _understand_ him, let alone _love_ him.

 

He drowned out that noise. He just kept smiling and nodding his head along like he fully understood their sentiments even when it was so clear that he _didn’t._

 

“I know,” he lied to them. “I know, so that’s why I should probably go. You two w-will be fine, right? You’ll be okay if I go back to the agency now…”

 

“Oh, yeah!” Himiko blurted out. “I forgot that I dragged you here, heh...well, y’know that good luck spell I promised you earlier? Just let me know when you want me to cast it, or something, ‘cause it’s the least I can do since you’ve been such a good apprentice to me.”

 

“Please leave,” Tenko deadpanned. “But...don’t get the wrong idea, okay? I’m grateful that you helped out Himiko and helped me out, in a way. S-So I guess I owe you something now, huh? That’s so typically male of you!” she complained to him, but the way her words came out sounded like she wasn’t all that bothered by the situation. Her eyes returned to the warm spring green they were before, and she shone that warmth in his direction, if only for a brief moment.

 

“Thank you, Shuuichi.”

 

He smiled, then turned on his heels to disappear in a flurry of shadows. Those ribbons of darkness enveloped him all at once, but neither of the girls seemed perturbed by this display. He only let this spectacle be seen for the sake of amusement, as he knew that no one else in the world was witnessing them except for the two loving girls behind him.

 

His smile leaked into his voice as he called out to them in parting. “You’re welcome!” and then Shuuichi completely faded away from view, leaving nothing behind but the lasting remnants of his hesitant figure in their minds.

 

.

.

 

He returned to the detective agency, hoping with all his heart that Kokichi would still be there. Of course, that would have to mean that Kokichi was still asleep, or that he was awake and too afraid to leave the building—but the latter option was nearly impossible, and the former option wasn’t any better on his end. No, the anxiety brewing in Shuuichi’s stomach was somehow _settled,_ and that could only be the result of one thing.

 

Kokichi was _gone._ Shuuichi opened the door to the room that the other had been sleeping in, only to find that the roll-out bed was empty and the sheets were strewn into a mess. There was no sign of the boy, with his scent waned out and the sound of his sleeping breaths nowhere to be heard.

 

The only thing that assured Saihara that Ouma had been real at _all_ was the cell phone left behind, that which vibrated with a new notification sound when he least expected it. Saihara blinked, and reached into one of the bookshelves—the hiding place for Ouma’s phone and other minimal belongings—to pull out the object in question. It was a sleek phone, one of the newer models that still floated around these days. The case was stylish with a black-and-white pattern, and a screen protector was very noticeable on the front.

 

When Shuuichi pressed the home button, the screen lit up which let him notice a few things. First was that Kokichi’s text and call notifications were blown to all hell, and even as he stared at the screen in wonder, new messages popped up nonstop. Second was the lock screen background—what was visible of it, anyway—and how it seemed to be the logo of _something_ that Shuuichi just couldn’t figure out. But it vaguely reminded him of a pair of dice, so it intrigued him to know that Kokichi might have been the gambling type.

 

Third was the date listed on the phone. According to the atomic clock, it had been a whole day since Kokichi chased Shuuichi on the rooftops, only to end up at his mercy when he chased him off the side of a building. But in those measly twenty four hours, so many things had happened that Shuuichi felt like he couldn’t just ignore. If anything, the time of day reminded him how fast-paced it had all been, and how he had more problems than answers at this point in time.

 

He locked the phone again, and set it back where it was. Either Kokichi was in a rush and didn’t think to grab his own phone on the way out, or he searched the room for it and couldn’t find it anywhere. The first option was most likely, since Kokichi’s phone wasn’t even on _silent_ and if he had stayed long enough to search the area, he would have found it by simply listening.

 

No, Ouma had escaped as soon as he realized where he was. The spare hat that Shuuichi kept on the nightstand was what probably broke the illusion for him. The detective cursed himself for being so careless, and picked up the hat in question.

 

He thought about what he told Himiko earlier, and how he stopped wearing the hat because it “got in the way”. While that was true, he didn’t want to admit to her the truth about what happened between him and Kokichi, nor did he want to say that he constantly fought himself to try and wear the hat again whenever he so much as glanced at it. Anxious since birth, Shuuichi wasn’t the social type of person _at all_ and he had trouble looking people in the eyes. The hat always remedied that problem, and yet…

 

 _I don’t need it right now,_ he decided to himself. _It’s the least of my worries._ He put the spare hat inside one of the drawers, keeping it out of sight (and therefore out of mind) for the time being. When the drawer closed again, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

 

“I guess it’s not over yet,” Shuuichi said to no one. “He’ll come back for his phone, right? We’ll probably meet again, then.”

 

 _And when we do, I’ll try to talk to him normally. Maybe I won’t have to use_ that _method again. Maybe I can get him to calm down long enough to listen to me. Maybe._

 

Countless thoughts circulated within his head, and he groaned at the frustration of it all. If only he hadn’t got caught up in such a situation to begin with, he would never had run into Ouma, and none of this would have ever happened. If only he hadn’t been so concerned with the criminal, the police, or the chase of it all, then he could have stayed inside the agency and avoided this  entire mess. _If only he had pushed Ouma off that building like he said he should have! If only his skull cracked open like an egg on the concrete, then maybe this wouldn’t be happening!_

 

“Stop,” he told himself. “You’re better than that. J-Just find Ouma again sometime, and work it all out. K-Keep it together, Shuuichi…”

 

Normally, he wasn’t so keen on talking to himself, let alone pumping himself up. But he needed it now, because even though he was so normally sedate and mild-mannered, there were times where the innate bloodlust inside of him took over. There were times where even he, the most pacifistic vampire yet, fell into the despair that was typical of his very being. Thoughts that were so unabashedly violent and callous tended to swamp his brain, and it took a great deal of self-cleansing to keep the animosity at bay.

 

It couldn’t be helped, not when such monstrosities existed so closely to the fabrics of his existence. It couldn’t be helped, since he always had to balance out his vampiric traits with his own personality. It couldn’t be helped, when he was like paper fluttering to the constant edge of fire, smoldering and burning but never bursting into flames.

 

It couldn’t be helped.

 

Although he desperately wished it could.

 

.

.

 

“Hey, Shuuichi!”

 

“Kaito? And Maki, too? What are you two doing here?”

 

“You weren’t in yesterday, so we waited for you to come back today. Your uncle told us that you were busy.”

 

“I _was_ busy, that’s for sure. S-Sorry that I missed you, though! Is something wrong?”

 

“Hell yeah, something’s wrong! Me ‘n’ Maki Roll ran into someone strange yesterday! I dunno if you know him, but there’s this guy named Kokichi Ouma. Well, we were gonna walk in the office to see if you were there, but just as we opened the door, we see this guy behind it! And like, this dude’s really fucking annoying, so we’re thinking ‘what the hell’s _he_ doing here?’ So we ask him, and he won’t say a damn thing. He’s just telling us to mind our own business, while we’re tellin’ him to mind his, and—”

 

“—You talk too much, Kaito. Let me take it from here.”

 

“That’s fine by me!”

 

“Anyway...we _did_ run into Ouma, like he said. But why would he be here, of all places? I don’t know if you know this, but he’s a vampire hunter, so for him to be _here_ is…well...”

 

“...Um, I guess that’s because…”

 

“Also, we tried to stop him but he ran so fast! But like, the dude’s _really_ fast, and I reached out to stop him, but all I got was his scarf! Look at this thing, it’s decently styled but you can tell that guy wears it a lot, yeah? I took it from him and he didn’t even flinch! What a weirdo!”

 

“Y-Yeah. He’s really weird…”

 

“...Shuuichi? Are you hiding something from Kaito and I? Let me know now so I can kill Ouma later.”

 

“N-No! Don’t do that!”

 

“...”

 

“I’m sorry, that came out more aggressive than I wanted it to...um, you guys really want to know, don’t you?”

 

“Yup! Maki and I are your friends, right? So there’s no need to hide secrets from us! At least, not _this_ secret because we already saw Ouma, and there’s no fixing that! So if there’s something between you two, we ought to know!”

 

“Yeah, you have a point...okay, why don’t you two come in, then? I-I’ll explain everything inside…”

 

“...Alright. Let’s go, Kaito.”

 

“No need to tell me twice!”

 

And like that, the trio reunited at once. They filed into the small detective agency, and waved at Shuuichi’s uncle who was manning the front counter again. They walked down the hallways, and into the room situated in the furthest part of the building. Before them was a large living room set up, with a tea table that was cluttered in papers and forgotten teacups. There were also comfortable leather couches, those that Kaito collapsed on without warning, and Maki sunk into as she sat down beside him.

 

Shuuichi, on the other hand, took his place across from them, and balled his hands into fists as he held them in place on top of his knees. He took a deep breath—maybe two or three more breaths after that first one—and started talking.

 

“Well,” he said. “Why don’t we start from the beginning?”

 

He glanced between Maki and Kaito, finding nothing but firm resolve and ready understanding in their eyes. He was glad to have friends like them. Those two were great, along with Himiko, Tenko, and even Kaede. With these wonderfully good friends in his life, Shuuichi decided it was fair to give them some well-earned explanations, those that would cut through the fog that hung between them all since the whole incident started.

 

Explanations that would clear the shadows in their hearts, if not their minds. To this, Shuuichi smiled, and nodded when he found the strength to go on without shame.  “Let’s start from the beginning,” he repeated himself. “The beginning, strangely enough, starts with Kokichi Ouma.”

 

The other two wore looks of confusion, but Shuuichi just assured them that everything would be clear soon enough.  “So, just imagine,” he began, soft voice coming to a slow rise in volume. “Imagine what Kokichi would look like as a six-year-old. And t-this is what he told me himself, so I’m not making any of this up. I don’t think I _could_ make any of this up.”

 

A thoughtful pause—followed by a chaste laugh—ensued. He wondered if Kokichi would be mad to hear him speak this way. Would he be angry to know that Shuuichi used his own words against him? Would be feel betrayed if he found out that his personal life story had been recited to others like it was secondhand gossip? He supposed he could ask him about it later, whenever he got the chance to.

 

Shuuichi continued.

 

“And so imagine that he’s there, sitting in a chair whilst swinging his legs and drinking soda, because he’s all done with his homework and it’s late at night…”

  



End file.
